There Sleeps a Living Flower
by Wordmangler
Summary: For one child, it is time of wonder and magic. For the other, it brings nothing but misery. A tiny glow in the dark brings Anna the beggar girl and Elsa the privileged princess together, to learn from each other about the beauty and cruelty of winter, fate, and friendship. [Esla/Anna soul mates/friendship. Slightly AU but period-accurate]
1. The Little Match Girl

"Within each sere dead form, there sleeps a living flower.  
And angel-like it shall arise, in spring's returning hour."  
**The Crocus**, _Harriet Beecher Stowe (1811-1896)_

**1. The Little Match Girl**

Most terribly cold it was; it was snowing, and was nearly quite dark as the evening wore on. The market stalls in the square were shutting up, the hustle and bustle of the day soon to be replaced with the cold emptiness of night. People were bundled up well against the winter chill, with thick warm coats and heavy boots, for the temperatures were already below freezing. They hurried to and fro, intent on their own little errands, and few even noticed the small, thin girl dressed in rags and castoffs, and her little box of lucifers.

"Matches, sir? Buy my… my fine matches?" she asked in a small, weak voice, holding a few white phosphorus matches out in her pale hand.

"Out of the way, beggar," a well-dressed man shot, brushing her aside as he headed into the light and warmth of a shop. The little girl followed him with her eyes, seeing the welcoming golden glow, and knowing it was not meant for her; it would never be meant for her. With the leaden, blank-eyed gaze of unexpectant want, she turned away, returning to her work, and the only life she could ever know. She shuffled her feet, trying to get some warmth into them: she had already lost one of her slippers, or it had simply fallen apart from long use; and the other was not long for this world.

Moving further out into the square, she approached a man with an unlit pipe, holding out one of her matches. "Sir?" she asked, then coughed.

Startled by the noise, the man glanced at her, seeing her unwashed red-blonde hair, her blue eyes with dark shadows underneath them, and a dusting of freckles that the grime could not quite hide. He shook his head and turned away, using one of his own matches to light his pipe.

The little match girl sighed softly, and turned to look for another potential customer. She had not been able to sell a single matchbox today, as it was the last evening before the New Year, and not many people were out. The cold snow, falling steadily and coating everything with a smothering blanket of deathly white, was also keeping people indoors, snug in their warm homes. The girl thought about her own home, the narrow, dark cold room she shared with her father and grandmother—she once had two sisters, but one had died of the flux when she was very small, and the other had left for Oslo the previous summer, and no word had ever come back. The match girl liked to dream that her sister was now living in a fine warm house, with nice clothes, and good food, but never mentioned this to her father, not after the time she was beaten until her thin body was a mass of bruises, and her father had told her never to daydream and make up stories again.

"No beggars!" came a stern voice, startling the little redhead. "Move along!"

The girl looked up to see a policeman glaring at her. "Please sir, I'm not a beggar, I'm… I'm an honest salesgirl," she said, repeating the story she had given so many times before. "I'm selling lucifers, sir. See?" She held out her carrying tray, with the boxes inside it.

The policeman snorted. "Arendelle is rife with you street-orphans. The sooner we can pack you all into a workhouse the better. What's your name, urchin?"

"A—Anna, sir," the girl said, trembling. "Please sir, I'm not an orphan; I have a family."

"No doubt you do, uh. Anna," the policeman said in a voice which suggested he didn't believe her, and didn't care either way. "Mind you don't disturb the good folk in their homes, now. Selling's only allowed on the streets. And if I hear any complaints about you loitering, or begging, or bothering the gentry, it's off to the workhouse, family or no."

"Thank you sir," Anna said, bobbing her head as the policeman passed on by, turning his coat collar up as a fresh blast of snow swirled around the square. Anna shivered, wrapping her thin shawl more tightly around her shoulders, and shook her bare head to get the snow off it as she trudged away from the square along the cobbled street, holding out her matches to the few people who passed.

A sudden noise of jingling sounded behind her and a shouted "Make way!" sent her scrambling as fast as she could on frozen feet to the side as a great red sleigh and two horses dashed past. Anna was able to just get a glimpse of a young girl, dressed in expensive furs, and surrounded by shopping bags from many different stores. The girl was nestled into the arms of an older woman, in elegant finery, and for a moment Anna was reminded of her own grandmother, and how, after her father had beaten for not selling enough lucifers, or had struck at her in one of his drunken rages, she had always been able to find comfort in the bony arms of her grandmother.

But the old woman had been ill for many years, ever since she had started coughing blood so red that little Anna had wondered at first if it were paint, and had finally gone to her eternal rest not more than a month before. Anna supposed that her grandmother was now happy in Heaven, but it was so much harder for her to be left behind, without anyone to protect her from her father's wrath. Tonight would be no different, she knew, if she were to return home with anything less than half a dozen skillings. Her insides twisted at the thought of yet another beating, so she trudged wearily back to the main square.

The small girl passed a large, well-lit house, and through a large window, glowing with the warmth of a good fire, she could glimpse a Christmas Tree, the candles in its branches flickering brightly. As she stood there, mesmerized by the tiny lights, the scent of roasted goose caught her nostrils. Anna's empty stomach clenched as the succulent odours crept out into the street: she had not eaten since breakfast, and that was only a thin crust of stale bread and butter, and some weak cabbage soup. Sometimes, if she was able to sell many matches, she could afford to have a whole pastry, bought from one of the stallkeepers. And once she had found an entire roast chicken just lying on the ground in the snow, dropped by some careless shopper—her family had eaten well for several nights then. But goose! Oh, that such a food could exist! Anna took a deep breath, trying vainly to extract some nutrition, some flavour, from the thin air. For a brief moment she even forget how cold she was, and how much her feet hurt.

"Begone with ya, ya little beggar!"

Anna jerked around to see a portly woman brandishing a broom at her from the neighbour's front stoop. Not wanting any trouble, the little match girl hobbled away as quickly as she could on feet almost numb with cold, heading back towards the square. She rested briefly on a pile of empty crates and, out of habit, checked to see if any food had been left in them. She was not surprised to find there was nothing—she was not the only beggar-child in the city, after all.

She cast a final despondent look around the market square. By now there was almost no one out, save for a few beggars and mendicants shuffling around, like herself, in the forlorn hope of collecting a skilling or two for what might be their only meal of the day. Anna cast a look down into her little carrying-box, and sighed deeply. She would have wept, but there was no point in weeping. Not for her, not here. She had learned that lesson a long time ago. Even when she was beaten, she did not weep, for it would not make the pain ease, or her father less angry. Only after it was all over and she could find solace in her grandmother's arms would the tears finally come, to be delicately wiped away by the old woman's gnarled hands. But with her grandmother now gone, there was no respite from her father's wrath. She could not go home like this, not having sold a single matchbox. There was nothing for it but to spend yet another night outside, in some quiet corner, and hope that the morrow would bring better luck.

The small girl shuffled over to a narrow alley that was out of the wind and snow, and found a little corner where one house projected farther out than its neighbour, where she slumped down, drawing her feet under her, tucking them under the ragged hem of her dress. She put the carrying-box of matches into her lap, and stuck her fingers, red with cold, into her mouth to try and warm them. But it was like sucking ice, as she was so cold herself that it did not have much effect.

Anna glanced down at the boxes of matches she was carrying. Surely she could spare one, a single match, just to thaw her fingers out slightly? Just one would not make any difference, and her father would never bother to account for each skilling. Her hands shaking, partly from the cold, but mostly from her daring, she opened a box, and took out a long sliver of sulphur-impregnated cypress wood, the tip dipped in deadly white phosphorous. She gazed at it longingly, as if merely by looking she could enjoy its warmth, then she slowly stretched out a hand, and struck it on the stone foundation wall.

The match flared into life, its flame lighting up the alleyway with yellow and gold, bringing the promise of warmth and comfort. A flame that could light up a great hearth-fire, bringing solace to an entire family. Or perhaps instead of a hearth, there would be an iron stove filled with coal, pushing out its welcome heat, and on top a kettle would be singing merrily, ready for the tea. Anna almost felt as if she could see that stove, and feel its embracing warmth. She stretched out her feet, blue with cold, to try and warm them as well, but all too soon the weak flame flickered and died, leaving nothing but a faint tracing of smoke curling up into the leaden night sky, from which the unrelenting snow drifted steadily down.

The cold and dark after the match had gone out seemed even more oppressive than before, and Anna quickly tucked her feet back under her thin skirts. She waited for a few moments, and then took out another match. Her hands shook less this time, for she cared less what her father would do. After all, he never beat her enough to cripple her, as he needed her to work. She would survive whatever he could do to her, even with no one to turn to to ease her suffering.

The second match scratched into golden life, even more brilliantly than the first, its light dancing in front of her eyes. Anna felt almost warm as she gazed as it. Through the flame, beyond the alley and over the wide moat, she could see the windows of the castle, lit up and full of cheer. She even felt she could hear snatches of music, borne on the wind, as the lords and ladies of Arendelle danced the old year away. Ah, to be in that ballroom, to be warm and safe and happy, Anna thought. She gazed into the burning flame, imagining what wonders lay there for the lucky. There would be good bread, and warm soup, and juicy, plump goose, and maybe even chocolates. Anna had heard people talking about chocolate, and seen it for sale in the shops, but she had never tasted it before. Would the princess of Arendelle be eating chocolate, she wondered. Oh, surely she must! Chocolate and plum tart and pudding and cakes—such a feast the flame promised! But then the fickle fire flickered and died, and Anna's small stomach was as empty as ever.

* * *

Princess Elsa of Arendelle was gazing out of a window high up in her castle, watching the people go to and fro, busy on various errands. She was exquisitely bored with the New Year's festivities, and hated the thought of mingling with the various nobles and court hangers-on. There was far too much pressure to pretend to emotions she dared not feel, to put on a pleasant face of welcome when she wished they would all go away and leave her alone. Far too much pressure to conceal her power, her curse.

So instead she had retreated here, to the topmost tower, as soon as she could, leaving her mother and father to entertain the guests. They did it so well, and she found it so impossible to maintain the pretence for long. At least being a princess meant she was expected to be somewhat aloof and cold. If only they knew just how cold, Elsa thought with a joyless smile, as she conjured up a swirl of snow. She sent it outside to join the rest, directing it high into the sky, watching as it danced and spun, like a ballroom full of angels in time with the strains of music that wafted up from the ballroom. With a sweeping gesture out the window she caused a sudden small blizzard, sending it soaring up over the town, showering its myriad lacy flakes upon the people below.

People…. Elsa did not much like other people, being around them. It was too nerve-wracking. Her power had always isolated her; for her own protection, her father always said, and to protect others. He had told her she needed to control her emotions to control her power; to conceal her feelings and conceal her gift. For even in this modern scientific nineteenth century, when the power of steam was changing the face of Europe, no good would come of rumours that the sole child of the king and queen, heiress to the throne of Arendelle, was a witch.

So Elsa seldom ventured outside, and if she lacked real playmates, at least she had as many as she liked in the form of characters in the stories she would read over and over again. And her father had given her a telescope for Christmas just the previous week, so the young princess had spent many hours gazing down on the city from her perch near the very highest part of the castle. She had been doing so again this evening, watching the people go by—the merchants, the young ladies in their finery, the tall dandies with their elegant coats, the tradesmen rolling out of the pubs, arm in arm and faces red, the fat old women who tended the _pepperkaker_ gingerbread stalls, and the soldiers keeping an eye on everything. It was amusing to spy on them, seeing and not being seen. It was a way to participate vicariously, without having to actually interact with anyone as she remained apart, aloof, above them all.

But the market was almost still now, and so Elsa had been playing with the snow, creating swirls and eddies of flakes that danced in the night sky, flying over the still town and settling on roof, tree, stall, road, and windowpane, dusting the world with a gentle white blanket that hid the ugly imperfections of reality. Snow was so elegant, so pure, Elsa thought—it was crystallized perfection. Geometrical precision brought to life, each tiny flake a universe unto itself, forever and ever, as far as her microscope could see.

There was no season better than winter, Elsa felt. She loved the snow and ice, which turned the kingdom into a fantasy playground, as summer's prosaic landscapes were magically transformed into soft, glittering, white and blue shapes that concealed mysteries beneath their cold exteriors. And there was the rich, warm food, the elegant long dresses, the festivals, and especially the long dark nights when those mysterious, shimmering green curtains of fire would march down from the pole and dance for her high in the sky.

In winter Elsa felt most alive, most able to face the world. It was her time. Sometimes she would even get her parents to take her, incognito, into the city and its marketplaces. They would swish through the streets in their great sleigh, visiting bookshops and toy stores, but they would always end with a stop at one of the stalls that sold pepperkaker, where she would marvel at the way they were made into all sorts of wonderful shapes, some coated with glaze and sweets and used to decorate windows. What they did with dough, she could do with snow. Elsa cast up a gust of flakes, shaping it into hearts, diamonds, clubs, stars, and all the other delightful patterns the gingerbread came in, imagining them floating down into the town, forming their own frozen decorations on windowpanes around the city. Tomorrow, New Year's Day, she knew her family would have to leave early to visit the great stave cathedral of St. Olav, and she determined to ensure that her father bought her a large bag of pepperkaker to make up for having to go out into the city, and face all those watching, staring eyes. The eyes that always seemed to say, we know what you are, we know what you did.

A sudden spark in the distance caught her eye. Over among the large merchant houses that lined the harbour, across from the castle, a tiny light flickered and wavered. Too small to be a lamp, Elsa's first thought was that it was a reflection of the castle lights on a bit of broken glass. But then the light went out, and she thought no more about it, concentrating on creating a particularly fine pattern of snow, which she sent out over the castle courtyard, letting the wind catch it and take it to create its own unique patterns.

Another spark flared up, in the same place, and Elsa peered towards it, curious as to what could be causing it. It seemed to be coming from down one of the narrow alleyways. The light was too bright to be a reflection from anywhere, and Elsa leaned on the windowsill, chin in hand, looking out at the gleam in the darkness and wondering. She dreamed for a moment that it could be a fairy, like in her stories, but her father had been most specific that such things did not exist. Perhaps a troll, with gleaming gold? Come down from its mountain home to spirit away a beautiful maiden to be its bride—and as trolls were known to prefer princesses, Elsa found amusement in imagining it might be looking out over the water at her, yearning for her. Then her little fantasy was interrupted by the church bells tolling midnight, signalling the new year, and the mysterious light faded again.

The snow was slowly easing, and Elsa knew her mother would be expecting her in bed. She picked up her telescope and was about to start down to her bedroom when yet another spark caught her eye, much brighter than the others. This time she raised the telescope and peered through it. It was hard to make out, as the snow was still falling, but it looked like a small figure hunched in the snow. A small woman, or a child, perhaps. Elsa couldn't imagine what the person was doing, or why they would be outside so late. Of course it was never going to be a fairy or a troll, but could it perhaps be smugglers, or even pirates, making secret signals? Pirates in Arendelle would be an exciting adventure—the idea sent a mild chill up the young princess's spine. Playing along with her fantasy imaginings, Elsa grabbed the candlestick from the table and held it out so it could be seen, moving it from side to side in reply. But there was no response from the light, and when it eventually faded, having lasted longer than the others, she turned away in disappointment, leaving her fantasies to return to the tedium of her life. It would have been so much more interesting, she thought, if she could have gone out there and discovered the pirates, or trolls, or fairies, or whatever was making that strangely hypnotic light. Elsa glanced at her hands, and sighed. She could never do that, not as long as she was afflicted with this curse. There was too much risk—she simply wasn't safe to be around.

* * *

Already half-asleep, Anna nestled into the snowbank, which felt warm and soft, more inviting that the fluffiest feather bed. She could hear, far off, the sound of the bells ringing in the New Year, and sighed as a distant memory from her childhood surfaced, of visiting the castle many years ago, when it was open to all, with her grandmother. Anna felt she would so like to be with her again, to be held and comforted, protected from everything harsh and cold. Perhaps the warmth of the flames could bring them together again, at least in her heart.

Anna drew out several matches, knowing this would cost her dearly on her return home, and lit them. Oh, they were so bright and warm! So much more so than a single match! What a marvel a flame was! The young girl breathed in the hot, slightly acrid smell, feeling it warm her chest right down to the bottom as she gazed into the dancing flames. She could see shapes in there, twisting figures, laughing and dancing. And there was her grandmother! Just a figure in the flames, reaching out her hands to the young ragged child. A small smile stole across Anna's dirty face, and fresh tears of happiness sparkled in her eyes. Behind her grandmother she could see the lights of the castle, the lanterns gleaming from the windows and eaves, and in her mind's eye the castle lanterns became the candles on the tree she had seen earlier, with one near the top, brighter than the rest, forming the star. The tall, narrow alley transformed into a warm, inviting ballroom, and she and her grandmother were dancing happily through a snowstorm of golden lights that surrounded her, lifting her up, filling her heart with joy.

The final matches flickered and died, falling unnoticed from the child's pale hands. Anna's last thought, before she drifted off, was a blissful happiness that her feet didn't feel sore any more.

* * *

The young princess had left the candlestick in the open window, where it burned brightly for a few more minutes, then started to gutter as the wind picked up. The flame struggled to survive, but in the end the snow was too much for it, and it slowly faded and died, leaving the room in darkness as the cold winter night reclaimed its icy grip on the world.

. . .

* * *

**NOTES:**

I saw Disney's version of _The Little Match Girl_ the other day, and was very impressed. For such a short segment, it really resonated quite powerfully. The cold and snow immediately made me think of _Frozen_, and the way that, even at its worst, the depiction of winter in _Frozen_ still has that fairy tale-like air, one which the wealthy could indulge in, but the poor would have to just suffer through. So I decided to explore these different reactions to winter through Anna and Elsa, making Anna the poor girl, and Elsa the rich one who inadvertently makes things worse. Unlike Andersen's tale, however, this one will have a somewhat happier ending (there wouldn't be much of a story to tell if I followed the original too closely, after all…).

The crocus is of course the State Flower of Arendelle. Hence the use of the poem, from which I get the title.

The first sentence is almost a direct quote from HCA's first sentence. Much of the descriptions of match-selling is taken from Henry Mayhew's "London Labour and London Poor," a fascinating bit of social history written during the 1840s, the same time "Frozen" is set. Therefore the conditions I describe here will probably tend towards more London than Arendelle, but I will try and keep it from being _too_ British. The odd mention of _skilling_ coins or _pepperkaker_ gingerbread, for example. Pepperkaker is Norwegian gingerbread, and like many countries in Germany/Scandinavia, it is commonly eaten as a Christmas treat, or used for decorations.

The behaviour of trolls is based on Scandinavian folklore—it does seem princesses were a preferred target of trolls.

The bit about the "leaden blank-eyed stare of unexpectant want" is pinched from George Eliot's _The Mill on the Floss_: "…the homes where the hearth was not very warm, and where the food had little fragrance; where the human faces had had no sunshine in them, but rather the leaden, blank-eyed gaze of unexpectant want." A wonderfully haunting bit of imagery describing the poor. I have used it in a couple of works before already. I think "unexpectant want" is such a perfect description.

The "deadly white phosphorus" tip refers to the older style of white phosphorus matches, which used a particularly dangerous form of phosphorus that could in the worst cases lead to a condition known as "phossy jaw," when the jawbone would literally rot from the inside. I really don't recommend looking it up if you're eating. Red phosphorus was developed later, and found to be much safer, but it was also more expensive, so for many decades matchmakers tried to use the cheaper form. However, the appalling conditions did create a foundation for some of the first modern labour reform movements.

Incidentally, it seems, based on Mayhew and others, that selling individual matches, as shown in the Disney short, would be highly unusual: the standard was for a box, for a few pennies or so. So I have made Anna sell matchboxes, rather than individual matches (which is really a bit like selling single staples…).


	2. The Princess and the Pauper

**2. The Princess and the Pauper**

The morning sun was still some hours off from warming the frosty morning when Elsa's lady's maid knocked on her door and entered.

"Good morning, Highness," she said, curtsying to the sleeping figure. "And might I wish you a Happy New Year?"

There was no reply. The maid set down the tray with the bowl of fresh water, then moved to the windows, quietly drawing opening the thick curtains. She cast a glance at the dark fireplace, which had not been lit in years, and sighed, seeing her breath as a pale mist in the ice-cold room. Then she busied herself with a few more chores before beginning the hardest of them all—getting the young princess up and moving on time.

"Highness?" she asked again, and was rewarded by a stirring of the quilts, and the emergence of a long, pale arm.

"Astrid? What time is it?" came a muffled voice.

"Just short of seven, Highness," Astrid replied. "Your royal parents are expecting you to join them for breakfast in the Small Dining Room, and then you will be heading for Divine Mass at St. Olav's Cathedral. Following that, there will be a reception in the Red Drawing Room for the nobles, and Her Majesty has requested you not to be late."

The bedclothes rumpled and shifted and the tousled blonde head of the princess emerged.

"Seven! I only just got to sleep! Where's my—ah, there it is…." Elsa splashed her face, trying to wake herself up, and smoothed down her hair. Then she slipped out of bed and stood barefoot, in her thin nightgown. "What have you prepared for me to wear today, Astrid?"

"Perhaps this soft mauve outfit, Highness?" Astrid suggested, indicating one of the dresses she had laid out.

"Mauve?" Elsa shook her head. "It's quite frightful, don't you think? No, that purple one. Something more sombre."

"As you command, Highness," Astrid said, returning the rejected gown to the closet while Elsa got dressed.

The clock was just striking half past the hour when Elsa was finally ready, her pale blonde hair neatly braided and coiled on her head, her long velvet gown all neat and tidy, and her face washed and clean. She glanced towards her maid, who was holding the final item: a pair of long white gloves. The hated symbol of her difference, her isolation from human contact. With a sigh, she held out her hands, feeling the doors to her heart swing shut once more as Astrid slipped them on.

* * *

The eastern sky was just starting to be painted with the first pale gold fingers of dawn when the long purple and green royal sleigh headed out of the castle gates, preceded by four soldiers on horseback to clear the way and act as bodyguards. Not that there was any real threat, as King Valter and Queen Lilia were well loved by the people. Elsa had once suggested dispensing with them altogether, but her father explained that the soldiers considered it an honour to guard them. It had become another of her lessons in how to rule, and command respect.

As the sleigh crossed the long bridge to the mainland, Elsa focused her mind on something, anything, that wasn't the fact that she was out in public, exposed, vulnerable. She held her gloved hands together tightly, fearful of an outburst, an accident, of hurting someone and being exposed as a witch, hated and feared. There had been several minor incidents over the years, which had all been hushed up, but just in case, her contact with other people was always kept to a minimum.

"Don't feel, don't feel," she muttered to herself. "Conceal it. Beneath the gloves, hide it away."

Once she was calm and centred, her fear and emotion properly suppressed, she looked up as the sleigh moved into the square, which was already full of people even though the sun had not yet risen.

"I do wish we didn't have to be out before the sun's up," she commented in a low voice.

"You know it never rises until after nine at this time of year," her mother told her. "It's part of a ruler's duties to consider others. None of these people get to stay home until it's light, either."

"I suppose I'm being a bit self-centred," Elsa admitted. "After all, I suppose these people aren't even princesses."

"And many aren't even with their families," her mother reminded her, reaching out a hand to her daughter, hovering it over Elsa's clasped hands, then quickly withdrawing it. Elsa tucked her hands under the blanket over her lap, and looked away, out at the houses and people, her eyes passing over them without seeing them.

"And some might not even have families to be with," the queen added, looking down at her own hands, gloved against the cold. "Some people are even alone in the holidays."

Alone... With a start, Elsa remembered the light she had seen in the night and the small, lone figure crouched behind it. Was that person now with their family, warm and safe? Surely he, or she, wasn't still outside? It had been such a weak light, and the figure behind it so small that Elsa was suddenly worried that something tragic might have been unfolding while she sat in her tower, safe and comfortable. Surely her playing with snow hadn't harmed anyone? Elsa knew she needed to know. Immediately.

"Stop!" she cried. "Stop at once!"

Startled, the groom reined the horses, looking to the king for instruction.

"Elsa, what is it?" the queen asked, surprise and concern in her voice.

"I'll be back immediately!" Elsa told her, jumping down from the sleigh.

"Valter!" the queen gasped. "Elsa! She's run off!"

"After her!" the king ordered, and two soldiers followed her on foot. "What's she thinking?" he asked his wife. "What's happened?"

The queen shook her head. "I have no idea! Elsa would never run off, in public, like this!"

"Thorston, turn the sleigh around and follow her!" the king ordered.

The groom nodded, and called out to the horses. The great purple sleigh jerked around in a tight curve, sending onlookers leaping, and sped off after the fleeing princess.

* * *

Elsa ran lightly across the snow, for once not conscious of the people around her. She slipped between two stalls, and out onto the wide embankment, lined with the offices and storehouses of some of Arendelle's finest traders and merchants. Every so often there would be a narrow alleyway between two of the brightly-painted wooden buildings, either for access, or as a leftover bit of land when one building was replaced by another over the course of the centuries.

There was nothing down the first alley, or the second, but Elsa skidded to a stop outside the third. There was a strange heaping of snow halfway down, and what looked like rags poking out. Nobody passing by would have noticed anything unusual. Elsa glanced around, and saw the two soldiers coming after her as fast as they could on the icy roads. She ignored them, however, all her attention on the strange mound of snow and rags. Heading into the narrow alleyway, picking her way carefully between the refuse and rubbish, her suspicions grew quickly firmer. This was no random heaping of snow—there was someone almost buried there, under the snow.

The princess approached step by nervous step, her heart in her mouth. She spotted a few stray fragments of black amidst the fresh white powder, and suddenly realised they were spent matches. It had been their light she had seen from the castle. And the person who lit them had clearly not been playing any sort of game: to her shock, she realised that what she had thought might be a bit of rumbled paper or card was a pale hand, thin and dirty, fingers blue with cold.

The hand was poking out of a ragged sleeve, heavily dusted with snow, that led up to a small head, with hair that might have been reddish underneath the grime and snow, and the dirty face of a young girl, her eyes closed and a small, sweet smile on her cracked, blue-purple lips.

Elsa's heart hammered into her throat, and she took a sudden step back, feeling ill. The figure she had seen from the castle the night before had never been a pirate, of course, but it was not even some drunkard sleeping off the night's revelry. It was just a little girl, even younger than she was, and so poor she had only a few matches to try and ward off the deadly cold. With a low, agonized moan of horror, Elsa stumbled backwards, into the arms of her father.

"Elsa, my child! What are you doing here! We must leave!" he told her.

"Father!" Elsa gasped, unable to tear her eyes away from the frozen child. "I saw her! I saw her last night!"

"You saw who?" the king asked. He glanced at the snow-covered girl, and swallowed hard. "Look, Elsa sweetie, let's get on to the cathedral, where it's nice and warm."

"I did this…." Elsa moaned, her voice barely audible. "I was playing with the snow, making it fall, making the magic. I shouldn't have, I know. But I did this…. I sent the snow…. I killed her…."

"No, no, you didn't, my little princess," her father said sternly, holding her tight. "Maybe she's just sleeping…" he trailed off, with a sceptical glance at the soldier standing nervously near him. The king jerked his head at the girl on the ground, and the soldier stooped, brushing the snow off her face. Then he stood, and shook his head silently. Elsa whimpered in despair.

"I'm afraid there's nothing you could do, my darling," the king said. "You couldn't have saved her."

"I could have! If I'd come last night, instead of staying in the castle, safe and alone!" Elsa cried, wrenching out of the king's grip, leaving him holding her glove. She knelt in front of the small girl, and gingerly touched her face. Then she felt for her hand, and held it tight. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I should have come out to play, not stayed inside hiding. I should have gone to see what the lights were. I wanted to, I really did. But I was afraid. I'm always afraid…."

"Elsa, come," her father said, a slight edge to his voice. "The service will be starting soon. There's nothing we can do for her now."

Elsa held the small girl's hand in her own bare one, and moved it gently across the girl's breast to rest. She held it there a moment, and then a little longer, searching, probing for something. Then she removed her other glove, tossing it aside for the soldier to scramble after. She placed both hands around the girl's neck, feeling carefully.

"Elsa! Your mother's waiting!" her father called.

"Father! She's alive!" Elsa gasped. Deep beneath the cold skin, she could feel the faintest, slowest pulse, weak and thready.

"Alive?" the king asked. "Are you sure?"

"Yes!" Elsa cried. She quickly brushed the rest of the snow off the girl's blue-white face, then made an impatient gesture with her hand. Immediately the rest of the snow covering the girl swirled up, coalescing as Elsa moved her hand, and dispersed into the sky. "Father! She's alive! We have to save her!"

"Bring her!" the king snapped to a soldier. "Elsa, come on! We'll take her back to the castle, get her warm!"

The soldiers carefully picked up the frozen girl and carried her back to the sleigh, where they laid her in the back, and Elsa covered her with a thick fur.

"Wake up, please," Elsa pleaded as the sleigh turned around and headed back to the castle. "Please!" She held the girl's icy hand in her own, almost equally cold hand, desperate for a sign of life, some indication that she wasn't a killer. Was it her imagination, or were the thin fingers starting to hold hers—was there a slight flickering of the eyes? A subtle quickening of the slow, barely-detectable pulse? Or was she already too late?

The sleigh pulled up to the front door of the castle, and two surprised footmen came rushing out, almost skidding on the ice. "Majesties! Why have you returned so soon? Is there a problem?"

"Take her into the Great Hall!" Elsa ordered as the king and queen got down from the sleigh.

"Who is this, Majesty?" one footman asked, looking from the frozen girl to the king in confusion.

"The princess has a compassionate heart, Lars," the king said with a wry smile. "Send Erik out to the cathedral to inform the bishop that we shall be a little late—he will understand. After all, in her own special way, our daughter is trying to save a soul…."

Elsa followed the footman, who was cradling the comatose child, into the ancient Great Hall of Arendelle Castle, where a huge fire was blazing in the massive stone hearth beside the royal family's tall Christmas tree.

"Go and get furs and blankets," she ordered once the child had been laid down near the fire. Then she sat down beside the still form, and drew her knees up under her chin.

"Elsa, darling, I know you're saddened by this," her mother said, her hand on her daughter's shoulder. "But really, I don't quite understand why you're so upset."

"I saw her, mother," the princess said, her blue eyes full of tears. "I saw her from the tower window last night. I was up there making snow, sending it out over the city, and I saw this light. A tiny little light that came and went. It was her, this girl, only I didn't know. I was watching her, pretending it was a fairy, or pirates, or something…. I never thought it might be a poor little girl with no home…." Elsa broke off with a sob, laying a hand on the match girl's narrow chest. Her eyes narrowed. She could feel it, like something solid: there was ice in the girl's body; cold, deadly ice. But ice that she could control, bend to her will. And she knew what she could do. She slowly stroked her hand along the girl's body, feeling the freeze lift, absorbing it into herself. With each stroke, the child's skin gradually turned from a sickly blue-purple to a warm, healthy pink. Elsa could feel the blood flowing more strongly, the heart increasing its rhythm, the chest moving up and down as life returned to the girl she had rescued.

The beggar girl coughed, and her eyes slowly flickered open, unfocused.

"In the name of Heaven," the king gasped, his hands shaking as he witnessed the full power of the magic his daughter possessed. "Our daughter hath wrought a miracle here today! Mrs Gerdason, the furs!"

The middle-aged housekeeper hurriedly brought over the furs she had collected, and with the king's assistance, laid them over the girl.

* * *

As her consciousness slowly returned, Anna became aware of a great calming warmth spreading throughout her body, and could hear the crackling and popping of a large fire nearby. She was lying on something soft and warm, and could hear the vague murmur of gentle voices. So this was Heaven, she thought. Such warmth, such comfort…. Her grandmother must be nearby. Where was she?

With an effort, Anna opened her eyes. A golden glow filled her vision, and she could see… lights…. There were lights. Shining points of light, rising up to a star. She flexed her fingers: she was lying on soft, thick furs. There was someone bending over her, and Anna could dimly make out what looked like white hair.

"Grandmamma?" she whispered.

The figure laughed gently. "I do hope not," it said in a soft, cultured voice.

Anna blinked, raising an hand to her eyes and rubbing them. Every movement felt like she was fighting gravity, and her arm seemed to weigh a ton. Then the vague shapes swimming before her eyes drifted into focus, and she gasped. The person bending over her was a young girl, not much older than she was, with pale blonde hair, ice-blue eyes, and alabaster skin, and dressed in a gorgeous purple velvet gown, embroidered with intricate patterns of flowers picked out in gold and silver.

"My… my pardon, my lady," Anna muttered, not sure where she was, but knowing it was nowhere the likes of her should ever be. "I am... I am sorry for intruding. I do not… know… I do not know how I came here…."

"My daughter found you, buried under snow, and insisted we bring you back," said another voice, a man's. Anna looked past the beautiful rich girl holding her, and saw a slim man with reddish- blonde hair and a thin moustache. He was wearing a military uniform, covered in gold braid and medals. For a moment, Anna wondered if she had been taken into an army base, and then she remembered seeing that face in the paintings that hung in many of the shops in the city. The world went black for a moment, and she felt dizzy and ill. This wasn't possible. It just wasn't possible. She must be dead after all. Dead, and in Heaven, and for some reason the King himself was there to greet her. The King? The King! And she was just lying down on her back like a no-good gutter tramp!

Anna struggled to stand up, to curtsey, but she had only got about halfway up before she was gently pushed down again by the blonde girl. The girl—wait? He had said this girl was his… his daughter? Anna looked over at the girl, who was smiling at her, and tried to get her brain to function. It couldn't be. No, no, never. This girl—this was the Princess Elsa?

She looked wildly around, seeing the huge hall, filled with Christmas decorations, the great Christmas tree surmounted by a shining star, even taller and more gorgeous than any she had ever seen in the homes of the well-to-do, the brightly-coloured banners hanging from the ceiling, the array of old weapons on the wall, and the blazing fire beside her, in a hearth almost bigger than her entire home. Her brain and mouth tried to do about six different things all at once, leaving her stuttering and stammering.

"Relax," the girl—the princess—told her. "You're safe now. What's your name?"

"My… my name, Your Royal… Royal Graceness?" Anna gasped, hoping this was the right way to address a princess. For a split second she found she couldn't even remember her own name, before blurting out "Anna. My name's Anna, so please Your Graceness."

"Anna," the princess said, looking like she was suppressing a giggle. Then, to Anna's surprise, the young princess's expression suddenly crumbled. "Oh, I'm so glad you're alive!"

"I… I don't understand, Your… uh, Grace. Why should one such as yourself care for… for one such as me?"

The princess looked at her. "Last night, you were seated in the alleyway…. You were lighting matches, trying to keep warm."

"How... how did you know?" Anna gasped. She looked at the princess with fear and confusion in her eyes.

"I saw you," the princess admitted. "I saw you, and did nothing. I thought you were just playing, as I was. I had no idea you were dying…."

"My princess!" Anna gasped, not sure what she should do. "You saw me…? I'm real sorry, Your Gracefulness! Honest! I never intended to cause you no distress!"

Anna glanced nervously from the princess to the king, and the queen behind him, her heart beating like it might explode. Why had she been brought here? Was she about to be tossed into the dungeons for impertinence, for causing inconvenience to the royal family? Was she going to be thrown into prison, left to rot, never to go free? The fear and worry overwhelmed Anna, and she threw herself down, prostrating herself, and started to cry.

"Uh, Anna? Anna? Whatever is the matter? Do please stop crying," the princess said, sounding uncomfortable.

"I'm… I'm sorry, Your Grace! Please, don't put me in a dungeon! I never meant to bother you, never!"

"Oh, of course you're not going to a dungeon!" Elsa told her. "Please, calm down. Don't cry. You're safe, and nobody's going to hurt you."

Anna slowly raised her head, glancing at the princess then averting her eyes.

"Elsa, we really need to be leaving," the king said, taking a step back. "Even an earthly king has a lord he must answer to. I'm glad the child is safe, but we have done our duty to her, and now our other responsibilities await."

Elsa looked down at the girl's tear-streaked face, and nodded. "Yes, Father. Anna, we have to leave now. Do you…." Elsa trailed off, looking at the beggar child's rags. "Oh Father, can't we at least give her some decent clothes, maybe a hot meal?"

"Well, I'm sure we can arrange that," the king admitted. "Mrs Gerdason! Find some clothes from one of the scullery maids she can wear, then take this, er, girl to the kitchens, and let her have some of the servants' breakfast."

"Yes, Majesty," the housekeeper said with a quick curtsey, then turned to the girl. "Come with me, child. I'll get you some proper clothes to wear."

Elsa nodded. "Go with her," she told Anna. "Don't worry—Mrs Gerdason's very kind. You'll be fine."

"Th… thank you, M—Majesty," Anna said, copying the form of address the older woman had used.

"Actually, it's Highness for princesses," Elsa said, trying not to laugh. "And don't worry, please."

"You're so, so wonderful kind to me, Highness," Anna said, slowly getting to her feet. Her clothes were almost dry, thanks to the blazing fire. It was so warm and wonderful in this great hall. Anna could have readily accepted that this was Heaven, and found it hard to imagine how anything could be more splendid than her current surroundings. Even now she wasn't entirely sure she wasn't up there, and the king and the queen and the princess were really angels. It was only the absence of her grandmother that spoiled the illusion.

"Go with her," Elsa said. "Mrs Gerdason, I'll want to see her when I return, so make sure she doesn't leave before that."

"Of course, Highness," Gerdason said, curtseying. Anna felt a heavy push on her shoulders, and looked at the old woman. "Curtsey, girl!" Gerdason whispered under her breath.

Anna did her best, clumsily imitating the way Gerdason dipped her knees and head and held out her skirt.

With a gentle smile, the princess and her family left the Great Hall, and Anna was alone with the housekeeper.

"Please, ma'am," Anna began nervously, "I… I am really honestly ever so grateful, so very grateful. I really don't warrant none of their kindness, not one like me. Maybe I oughta give 'em something in payment?"

"Hush, girl," Gerdason said. "You think you have anything the royal family could desire? Don't be foolish. Now come along. Before I give you some real clothes, not these smelly rags, you are going to have a proper hot bath—probably for the first time in your life, I'd warrant."

"What? A real bath? With hot water and all?"

Gerdason looked at her, and gave a small laugh. "Yes, little one. With hot water and even soap. You certainly need the soap!"

.

* * *

**NOTES AND COMMENTS: **

Even though this is a sort of fairy-tale, with magical powers, I do want to try and keep it grounded. There is actually precedent for Anna being able to survive a night in the snow: I found a NY Times article from 1981 about a Dakota teenager who recovered after being literally frozen stiff overnight, and snow itself is actually a pretty good insulator.

The sun doesn't rise in the Bergen area of Norway until about half past nine in early January. I've used this region as the town of Arendelle is based on Bergen, though the landscape is quite different.

"Astrid" is taken from _How To Train Your Hiccup_, and "Mrs Gerdason" is of course "Gerda" but changed to a patronymic surname – as, if _Downton Abbey_ is any guide, senior servants were not called by their first names.

Christmas trees originated in Germany, but by the early 19th century had spread to the royal courts and nobles of Europe, and Hans Christian Andersen had actually written his _The Fir-Tree_ about a Christmas tree in 1844, so it is historically acceptable for the court of Arendelle to have one. Queen Victoria also loved them.

**PS:** Thanks to Loridhhp for catching a typo - I've fixed that "Else"... Despite re-reading the thing at least half a dozen times, there's often one or two that slip through...


	3. Little Lost Kitten

**3. Little Lost Kitten**

"Well, girl? I don't have all day!" the housekeeper said, looking at Anna impatiently. "Get undressed! Haven't you ever had a bath before?"

Anna shook her head. "Not like this, my lady," she said, looking nervously down at the ground. She shouldn't be here, she knew. She should be outside, back on the streets, trying to sell her matches. After all, at some stage she was still going to have to face her father.

Gerdason's eyes opened wide. "Never had a bath before? Bless me, child, where have you been living? No, don't answer that, don't," she added quickly, as Anna's face started to crumple. "I'm sure it's not as easy where… wherever you live."

"We… we do wash, a bit," Anna said in a small voice. "With a cloth." Visions flashed into her mind of standing naked in a shallow washtub of cold water, while her grandmother quickly wiped her down with a rag that might or might not have been dirtier than the girl. The water was always cold, even in winter, as they couldn't spare the fuel to heat it. And they were limited to how much water they could carry up the narrow stairs to their tiny room anyway. A grand tub like this, standing proudly in the middle of the room, was quite unimaginable. Anna had never really thought much about how the rich bathed. She'd thought about how they dressed, and shopped, and even ate, because she could see it—or smell it. But bathing? The rich were clean and smelled nice because they were rich. That was all she had ever really considered. After all, what was the point? It wasn't as if she was ever going to be rich. As a priest had told her once, God ordained some people to be rich, some to be poor. Some to be princesses, and some to be paupers. And to oppose that order was to oppose God's will. She clearly remembered his remarkably thick eyebrows knitting as he told her that last one, and how afraid of divine wrath it had made her.

"Hurry up," the older woman was saying, interrupting Anna's thoughts. "Don't be a foolish girl: the bath won't kill you. Nobody but uneducated peasants thinks that these days. Wait—you're not shy, are you?"

"No, my lady," Anna said, as she slowly removed her dirty rags. Living in a one-room home meant privacy was almost unheard-of. Modesty was a luxury, one the poor could scarce afford. In the poorer areas of town everyone knew everything about everyone else—when they went to the toilet, how often they made love, and of course how often they shouted and argued. Which, especially in her home, was all too often.

"Oh dear, you are a sight," Gerdason said, once Anna had finished taking her clothes off. She looked over the girl's skinny body, and clucked her tongue. "I could count your ribs, I could. Once you're clean, we can feed you up a bit. Get some hot food into you."

"Thank you ever so much, my lady," Anna said, starting to weep again.

"Come now, little one, I'm just 'Mrs Gerdason,' not 'my lady'," Gerdason said, and through her fears Anna realised there was a bit more sympathy in her voice than before. "I'm not a noble; I'm just the head housekeeper."

"What… what is a housekeeper, my... ma'am?" Anna asked. "Is it sorta like a housewife?"

Gerdason laughed. "No, not quite, child. Now into the tub with you, before the water gets cold."

Anna gingerly put a finger in the bath, then immediately snatched it out.

"What is it?" Gerdason asked. "Too cold?"

"It's so hot!"

Gerdason dipped her hand in, and swished it around a bit. "Nonsense. Why, it's barely even tepid. Now get in with you."

Anna looked at the large tub of clean water, and bit her lip. "I can't get in there, Miss! Uh, Mrs Gerdason. I'll get it all dirty!"

"That's what it's for," Gerdason sighed. "Dear me, child. Just get in, and start soaping yourself. There's a towel over there, on the chair, and I'll be back soon with some clean clothes." She looked distastefully at the dirty pile of discarded rags on the floor, then left.

Alone, Anna looked at the large copper bath, hesitating, wondering if this was all some elaborate trick, or temptation of the Devil. She had fallen asleep outside, and dreamed of Heaven and seeing her grandmother again, and now she was… in the royal castle? Meeting the princess, the king, the queen? Impossible. Quite, quite impossible. Anna closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then slapped herself. Aside from a brief stinging pain, nothing else changed. When she opened her eyes she was in the same place, a small but warm room. A room in Arendelle Castle, of all places. And that bath did look very inviting. Anna suddenly realised that she was actually still quite cold indeed, despite the small fire crackling merrily in one corner.

She stepped into the tub carefully, marvelling at the sensation of the warm water easing up over her body, of being able to sit neck-deep in it. It was so wonderful she thought she might never want to leave. Her father, her matches, her poverty, her worries—all were all forgotten as Anna let the warmth of the water penetrate her frail, thin body, seeping deep into her very core. Anna lay back, the soap forgotten, luxuriating in the soothing, embracing warmth, marvelling at the luxury of being able to relax.

The door suddenly opened, startling her, as a young girl came in. Anna gasped and grabbed the edge of the bath, sure she was about to be scolded for being in there so long.

"Mistress said I was to brung you these clothes," the new girl said, holding them out awkwardly. "And to take back yer old clothes. Where they are? Oh, these them? These ain't nuttin' but rags! Why you wanna wear these old rags? Even I wouldn't be caught dead in this stuff, no-how!"

"I… I…" Anna wasn't sure how to respond.

"Get on with you, you look bright pink in there!" the girl laughed. "How long you bin in there, anyhows?"

"I don't know, Miss," Anna said. "I was just… I was just sitting here."

"Well, you ain't gonna get clean jes' sittin' there! Why, you ain't even touched the soap! Oh, come on, hold still, it ain't gonna hurt ya!"

"No, Miss," Anna said, not sure if she was being scolded or not as the other girl lathered up a handful of soap and slapped it on her thin shoulders.

"Go on, do the rest yerself. And I ain't no Miss, neither," the other girl said. "I'm Karin. Just plain old Karin. Miss is for the ladies, y'see. So where'd you come, anyhow? You gonna be working here?"

"Working here?" Anna gasped. "Oh, you is so lucky! That would be right grand! To be with the princess!"

Karin stared at Anna. "My, you is a strange one! It ain't so grand workin' 'ere, and you ain't ever gonna be playing with 'Er 'Ighness, that's for sure! Ain't nobody ever plays with her. Well, she don't never play, anyways. Always at her books and her lessons, she is."

"She never plays?" Anna gasped.

Karin's expression changed. "Well, I guess as she does play by herself, sometimes, but we ain't supposed to talk about that. We ain't supposed to talk about the princess at all, leastways to outsiders, but then I guess if you're gonna being workin' 'ere, you ain't an outsider no more."

Anna shook her head sadly. "I ain't gonna be workin' 'ere. I was just told to have a bath an' get some new clothes. Then I guess I hafta go away again."

"Wait, you not workin' 'ere? Then what's yer doin' 'ere?" Karin asked.

"I was all almost frozen to death, I reckon," Anna said, standing up and accepting a towel. "I was out there, in the snow, all night, and I reckon I musta been near to gettin' into Heaven, but she found me, and she brung me back, here. She saved me, I reckon."

"She?"

"The princess. She saved me. I could feel her touching me, making me warmer."

Karin's eyes grew wide, and her jaw dropped. "The princess! She used her magic?"

"Magic!" Anna gasped. "What magic?"

"No, no, forget it, forget I said anything, okay?" Karin stammered. "I'm just joking with you, okay? Just a joke."

"If you say," Anna said, not wanting to press the issue. She didn't want to anger the older girl and get thrown out into the cold.

"Great, that's fine then. Now, they sent me in with your clothes," Karin said. "Here, dry yerself and get these on. The size should fit—they belonged to one of the scullery maids."

"What's a skully maid?" Anna asked as she used the thin towel to dry herself, and then promptly forgot her question as she looked at the clothing Karin was holding. "Oh, this is too much! Such a lovely dress, this is for a lady, this is! Not one the likes of me!"

"Are you having me on?" Karin asked, her eyes narrowed. "That ain't no lady's dress, get on with ya! It's a scullery maid's dress an' pinny, and I promise you, no lady'd ever get caught dead in it!"

"If you say so, Miss, uh, Karin," Anna said nervously. The dress, of simple starched cotton, was still cleaner and newer than almost anything she'd worn before, so to the beggar girl it was almost as gorgeous as the robes of a princess. Anna quickly got dressed, and twirled around, admiring her new outfit as Karin stuffed her fist into her mouth to keep from laughing at the younger child's naïve joy.

"You done in there?" Gerdason came into the room, and stopped and looked at Anna. "My, my, you do clean up well. Who'd have thought there'd be such a lovely little flower hidden under all that grime? Right then. Come along now, child. There's hot soup and bread in the servants' hall for you."

"Hot bread? Soup?" Anna could feel her stomach growl at the very idea as she was led into a large, bright hall, with a long, well-scrubbed wooden table down the middle. There was another blazing fire in the middle of one of the longer walls, keeping the room nice and warm.

Anna was made to sit on a bench at the far end of the table, and Gerdason motioned to another young girl who was seated at the table carefully mending a pale lilac silk glove.

"Bring some of the leftover soup and bread from yesterday's servants' tea," she ordered.

The young girl nodded, and left. She was back soon, and Anna found a tray placed before her, groaning under a magnificent repast. There was a large bowl of warm, thick, stew, two crusts of good brown bread, a great knob of yellow butter, and a big mug of steaming tea. Anna's stomach rumbled even louder at the smell, and Gerdason laughed.

"I guess you'd be hungry, lass. Eat up. And there's seconds if you're still hungry."

"Se—seconds, Ma'am? What're seconds?"

Gerdason blinked. "Why bless me, child. Seconds means you can have more if this isn't enough."

"More..." Anna gasped, and swallowed hard. She had always considered herself lucky to just get a single meal that would fill her small stomach. The concept of _more_ was almost impossible to imagine. She looked at the food again, inhaling the odour, and then her hunger got the better of her and she grabbed a slice of the bread and dipped it in the soup, soaking up the broth, and then crammed it in her mouth. Oh, it was so good! Anna quickly chewed and swallowed, and followed it with another.

"If you want more, just go into the kitchen and ask Mrs Pedersen, the assistant cook. Mind you don't leave the lower level, hear? No wandering the castle. You are to wait here until Her Highness returns."

"What… what does she want with me, Ma'am?" Anna asked nervously.

Gerdason shrugged. "The Princess wishes to ensure you are clothed and fed, I'm sure. Now eat your meal. Looks like it's the first decent meal you've had in days."

"Weeks, Ma'am," Anna said. "Thank you so much."

"Weeks?" Gerdason repeated softly, looking at the thin, frail girl. "Aye, no doubt it is weeks, poor lass," she whispered to herself as she left the servants' hall.

* * *

Anna sat nervously in a corner of the servants' hall, trying not to be noticed as men and women came in and out, bustling about. Apart from a few glances and raised eyebrows in her direction, however, they paid her no attention, so Anna was free to sit and wonder what was going to happen to her. She was feeling very pleasantly full, and had even had a second helping of soup. Not only was she full, and warm, she was wearing clean, neat clothes without a single patch, and even had footwear. What more could one want from life, she thought.

With a start, she realised she'd left her matches in the bathroom, with her old clothes. Her matches! She couldn't go home without them! Anna was not sure if she would be allowed to leave the room, but then remembered the housekeeper, Mrs Gerdason, telling her not to leave the lower level. That must mean, Anna decided, that she was allowed to walk around that level. So with a final nervous glance, wondering if anyone would stop her, she slowly stood up and made her way to one of the doors. She found herself in a long corridor, with doors opening off on both sides. Anna suddenly realised she couldn't remember where the bathroom was—when she had followed the housekeeper, she hadn't been paying attention to where she was going, and the lower level of the castle was clearly something of a labyrinth.

"Out of my way, girl," someone called out, and Anna quickly pressed herself to the wall as a tall handsome man in fine livery came bustling past.

"Is that a prince?" Anna whispered, and heard a loud snort behind her.

"Hans, a prince? That's a laugh!"

Anna spun around and saw young boy, only a little older than her, standing in the doorway with a large carton. "He's not a prince? But he's dressed so fine!"

The boy laughed again. "Hans is just a footman, so don't let him boss you around! Hey, you new here? I haven't seen you before. I'm Kristoff. Royal Ice Master, at your service!" He gave an ornate bow, and Anna stepped back, confused.

"I'm… I'm Anna, sir," she said, trying to remember the way Mrs Gerdason had taught her how to curtsey. She bobbed her head and tried to tuck her foot back, but ended up losing her balance, kicking a low table, which wobbled, the vase on top tumbling to the floor as Kristoff lunged to grab it at the same time Anna did. They collided, and both fell to the ground, Anna underneath.

"I'm sorry! Are you all right?" Kristoff asked, rolling off quickly.

"I'm fine, thank you sir," Anna said. "Oh, look at the mess! I'm so sorry! I'll clean it up, I will!"

"Hey, relax, let me," Kristoff said. "And knock it off with the sirs. I work for a living, I do."

"Oh, please, I should do this," Anna said quickly, grabbing the vase from Kristoff's hands. "I mean, you're the Royal Ice Master! You shouldn't be worrying about this!"

Kristoff's face went pinkish, and he grinned, scratching the back of his neck. "Well, actually, I'm not any kind of Ice Master. Just an ice delivery boy."

Anna blinked. "In winter?"

"Ah, well, in winter I'm more of a general delivery boy," he admitted. "I was here to drop off a few cartons of carrots for the stables. You work here? You look a bit young."

Anna blushed. "No, sir. I'm just a match girl."

"Kristoff!" came a shout. "The carrots! Now!"

"Yes, sir," Kristoff called, not turning at the new voice. He winked at Anna. "Well, might see you around. You take care now—try not to knock over any more vases."

Anna watched him go, her face in a slight pout. Then she remembered she had to find her matches, or else she'd have nothing to sell. The thought of going back out into the bitter winter cold, trying to find people to sell her humble wares to, put a small, hard knot in the pit of her stomach, But there was no choice. There never was any choice, not for her.

* * *

Elsa stepped out of the sleigh with a sigh of relief. The service, while excruciatingly dull, had at least passed without incident, and she had received the Eucharist with only the faintest touch of ice on the cup. She suspected it was because she was so distracted that she simply forgot to worry: for some reason, the girl she had rescued was preying on her mind. Elsa was intensely curious to learn more about her, and what had driven her to such circumstances. And, for that matter, why she was thinking so much about her. She was just some girl, after all. The city must be full of young sales girls like her, peddling the minor necessities of daily life. Elsa had never given them a thought before, so why was she now unable to think of almost anything else?

"Remember, Elsa, we're meeting the nobles in half an hour," the queen told her as she alighted.

"I know," Elsa said, avoiding her mother's gaze. It was just one more tedious event she had to suffer through, but she had no choice. She never did. With a slight sigh, she entered the castle, and hurried up the wide steps to the castle, heading to her room as fast as dignity allowed.

"Highness, how was the service?" Astrid asked as she helped the princess change.

"Uneventful," Elsa replied, feeling even less talkative than usual. "Get me the blue dress with the silver snowflakes," she added, gesturing to the wardrobe.

"Of course, Highness." The maid brought out a long silk gown of ultramarine, decorated with finely-worked silver brocade forming an intricate design of stylized snowflakes.

Elsa glanced at it, then shook her head. "No, no snow. On second thoughts, the plain black one."

"As you wish," Astrid said, returning the blue dress without comment, though she did raise an eyebrow slightly—normally the princess paid little attention to fashion. She unhooked the simple black dress, and helped the young girl get it on, before redoing her hair in a less ornate fashion, creating a simple coiled bun. The princess sat in silence, which was usual, but she was surprisingly restless, and Astrid was forced to wonder if there had actually been any little accidents at the service.

"Is the girl still here?" the princess asked suddenly.

"Uh, which girl, Highness?"

"The little match-seller."

"I… Oh, the young one? I think I saw her in the Servants' Hall, Highness. She was eating a bowl of soup. Enjoying it too, by the looks of it."

Elsa's expression remained neutral, but inside she permitted herself a slight glow of happiness. "Thank you, Astrid. I will go and see her now. Send Mrs Gerdason up."

"As you wish, Highness." The maid gave a quick curtsey and left, leaving Elsa alone with her thoughts. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, and slowly removed a glove. She touched a finger to the smooth glass surface. For a moment, nothing happened, and the princess let out a breath she had not realised she had been holding. Then a sheen of frost started spreading across the mirror, and she snatched her hand back with a scowl, thrusting it back into her glove.

A knock on the door startled her as she was trying to wipe off the ice. It opened, and the familiar form of the housekeeper entered.

"Highness?"

"Where is she?" Elsa asked.

"The beggar girl, Highness?" Mrs Gerdason asked. "I told her to wait in my room downstairs. I felt it would not be appropriate to have her wait in any of the upstairs rooms."

"Thank you. I wish to talk with her," Elsa said, taking a deep breath and smoothing a slight wrinkle in her left glove.

"I have bathed her and fed her, as requested, Highness." Gerdason hesitated, looking slightly nervous.

"What is it?"

"Highness, I know it's not my place, but…. When I was getting her into the bath, I noticed she has a number of bruises. I made no comment to the child, but… I fear she has been badly used."

Elsa's expression darkened. "Thank you, Mrs Gerdason. Bring her to me."

"As you wish, Highness."

The housekeeper left, and Elsa was left alone again. But not for long. She turned at the knock, and saw Gerdason standing there, her hand on the shoulder of a young girl in a maid's simple black frock, who was bowing her head low, and twisting her fingers together.

"Anna?"

"My Princess," the girl said, curtseying rather awkwardly.

"I… I am glad to see you looking cleaner," Elsa said, not sure why she was feeling anxious. "I do admit, I was terribly worried when you came in. Stand up straight and let me see you."

Anna did so, keeping her eyes downcast. Elsa raised an eyebrow. It was hard to believe that the strikingly pretty young girl before her now was the same dirty, half-frozen beggar she had rescued. Anna had long strawberry-blonde hair, a face liberally dappled with freckles, deep blue eyes half-hidden behind lowered lids, a small button nose, and cheeks reddened by exposure that made her look like she was blushing. Elsa found herself unable to keep from smiling as she saw the changes, and the cute little girl that was revealed.

"How old are you, Anna?" she asked.

"Please, Your Highness, I am eight years. At least I think."

"You think? Do you not know?"

"I'm not too terrible sure when my birthday is, Highness. On account of me mother dying so young. And we didn't never have birthdays, neither."

"You never had a birthday party?"

"No, Highness," Anna said. "There was no point."

Elsa bit her lip as she thought back to her last, and how she had hated having to sit patiently greeting a seemingly-endless line of dignitaries, all the while desperately hoping her secret would not be revealed, that she could maintain control. "For what it's worth, I don't much enjoy my birthday parties much."

"Don't princesses like parties? Highness?" Anna asked, her eyes open in surprise.

Elsa gave a slight smile. "I'm not fond of parties. I prefer to be left alone with my books. Can you read?"

Anna nodded. "A bit, Highness. The priest at the parish school learned me my letters."

"He did, did he?" Elsa asked, smiling slightly. The younger girl was so earnest and so cute, like a little lost puppy-dog. "What's your favourite book?"

"I… I don't honestly know, Highness. I don't have a book."

"You… you don't have a book? What, not one?"

Anna shook her head slightly. "No, Highness. I'm sorry."

"Oh, we must correct that! Mrs Gerdason! Bring me my copy of _Norwegian Folktales_."

"Of course, Your Highness," the housekeeper said, moving over to the well-stocked bookshelves.

"You shall have a book of your own, at least," Elsa said. "Books are very important. Is there anything else you wish?"

"Uh, wait…. Highness, might I humbly ask…?"

"What is it?" Elsa asked, arching an aristocratic eyebrow.

Anna held up a matchbox in hands that she couldn't quite keep from trembling. "Would you… um, Highness, might you wish to… buy some matches?"

The princess stared at her for a moment, then to Anna's astonishment, started to weep.

"Oh, Highness! Please, I did not mean to offend!" Anna gasped, hunching her head and bending low as Mrs Gerdason returned.

"Please, Anna, stand up," Elsa said quietly. "Of course I will buy your matches. All of them. Oh, but that seems so… so little." The princess took a step back, and bit her lip. "Mrs Gerdason…. We can't just turn her out into the cold again. Couldn't you use another maid in the kitchens or something? Anything's better than being on the streets in this weather."

"If you wish, Highness, of course," the housekeeper said. "We've been short-staffed for a while, so I'm sure we'll find plenty for young Anna to do."

"Good, good," Elsa said, and turned back to the girl. "That is, assuming you don't have anywhere you need to go. You don't have any family, do you?"

Anna thought about her father, and the beating that awaited her for not coming home last night, and the other beatings she had received over the years, and the damp, draughty room they lived in, and how cold she always was, how hungry she always was, how threadbare and poor her clothes were; and she thought of her grandmother, who had been forced to sell flowers on the street until she was too ill to even stand, and she made a decision. With a silent prayer for forgiveness for abandoning her father and breaking one of the Ten Commandments—she wasn't sure which—she shook her head.

"N…n… no, Your Highness. I have… no one. I am quite alone."

"Oh I am sorry," Elsa said softly. "Is that… is that why you were out there, alone, on the street last night? You… you have no one? There is no one to love you, care for you?"

Anna briefly thought about her grandmother, and her warm toothless smile. A smile she could never see again; a gentle love she would never feel again. "Not any more, Highness. No one cares about me."

"Well now there is," Elsa said with a smile. "You can live here now, and have a real job. Mrs Gerdason will tell you your duties, and show you what to do."

"Li… live here? In the castle?" Anna fought to keep the tears back, but couldn't quite succeed. "Th… thank you so much, Your Highness. I will work ever so hard, I promise!"

Elsa smiled. "I'm very glad to hear that. That you want to stay, that is. Goodbye, Anna. And I hope… I hope you like it here…."

Anna's eyes opened wide. "It's amazing, Highness! I know I shall!"

Elsa laughed, her face shining, causing the old housekeeper to raise an eyebrow at the rare sight.

"I might see you around then. Now go with Mrs Gerdason."

Anna curtseyed once more, then followed the housekeeper out of the room, dipping her head one last time as she left.

The princess looked after the young girl, fiddling with her gloves. She wasn't really sure why she had been so generous, offering a complete stranger a job in the castle, but there was something about Anna, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. For some reason, she felt as if she had to keep her close and safe, as if she was her responsibility. She was like a little lost kitten, naïve and eager to please, and Elsa felt less constricted around her than almost anyone else.

A soft voice interrupted her reverie. "Begging your pardon, Highness, but the King and Queen command your presence in the Red Drawing Room. The lords await you."

Elsa looked around, seeing the butler standing in the doorway, and sighed. She straightened her gloves, then settled her expression into a frozen mask of welcome as she followed him out, back to her cloistered, superficial life.

.

* * *

**SOME NOTES:**

First off, thanks for all reviews and follows received so far. I know it's very hard to get anyone to read your work in a fandom as active as this one (especially as this isn't about Elsa and Anna having a romantic love affair), but, coming from a much quieter fandom, I'm just grateful to have any readers….

If Anna seems far from her canon bubbly self, that's merely as she's still very nervous and unsure of herself at this stage.

What Anna remembers the priest saying about God ordaining some to be poor and some to be rich was quite a common way of thinking back then. While Disney has (wisely) kept religion out of their stories, I am adding some back in simply as a reflection of the period, to help try and ground it in some degree of historical reality.

I'm not sure if the dialects work – they're a bit of a muddle in a way, a sort of generic "low-class," but one minor aspect I would quite like to touch on is Anna being a bit of an Eliza Doolittle (_My Fair Lady_) and gradually learning to act like a lady as she interacts with the elegant, cultured princess.

I did do quite a bit of reading up on bathing in the early Victorian era, just in case I had written anything that needed changing, but about the only thing was a removal of a reference to clawed bathtub feet: those were more popular in the late Victorian era. Especially once tubs become permanently connected to plumbing: Elsa and her parents could well have baths with running water, even hot, but not the servants.

I've checked, and the Lutheran style of Christianity used in Scandinavia does indeed have the Eucharist.

Anna's age is based on the age of the watercress seller in Mayhew's book, _London Labour and London Poor_, and is perhaps the most well-known example from that work. This, of course, would put Elsa at eleven.

_Norwegian Folktales_ (_Norske Folkeeventyr_) is a real book, a collection of Norwegian folktales and legends collected by Peter Christen Asbjørnsen and Jørgen Moe. It came out in 1841, and if Frozen is set in 1845 (when _The Snow Queen_ came out), I will need to fudge the dates a little to make it match their ages, but nothing too drastic. I could have used _Grimm's Fairy Tales_, as they were out in time, but I decided to go for the Scandinavian one, to reflect the fact that the 19th century was a time of the resurgence of Norwegian nationalism after centuries of being dominated by the Swedish or the Danish, and so local myths and legends and traditions came to play a greater role.

If anyone's worried, I definitely don't intend to stop this story before it ends. I consider abandoning a story like giving someone a book with half the pages missing. I don't know how often I will be able to update, but I will continue to do so.

Oh, and I've done a special search for "Else" to make sure this time!

[Edited 7-May-14: Changed "Miss" to "Ma'am" when Anna is addressing Gerdason, and demoted Mrs Pedersen to assistant cook.]


	4. To Change a Fate

**4. To Change a Fate**

"Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty!"

Anna was startled into wakefulness by the sudden loud call. For a moment she felt disoriented, wondering where she was. She wasn't at home, that was for sure—the bed was too soft, the blankets too warm. Instead, she found herself lying in a narrow iron bed, in a small room with whitewashed walls, under a steeply sloping roof with a small triangular dormer window, out of which she could see the night sky. Another bed was positioned against the opposite wall, and Anna realised it was also occupied by a girl, not much older than she was, who was already sitting up and beginning her morning toilet.

"Uh, good morning," Anna ventured. She wasn't sure who this girl was, but she had been told she'd be sharing, so she wasn't surprised to see someone.

"Hurry up, lazybones," the other girl said, drying her face. "How long d'ya fancy laying about in bed, yer Majesty?"

"Sorry," Anna said, reluctantly leaving the warm bed for the chilly room. It was still warmer than her own home however—for one thing, there were no draughts. "My name's Anna. What's yours?"

"Hilde. Hurry up, or Gerdason'll have your guts for garters."

"Sorry," Anna said again. She was dressed in a few moments, then made her bed after the other girl reminded her harshly.

"I'm sure glad you're here, girl," Hilde said as they were heading down the steep narrow back stairs to the kitchens.

"Why are you glad?"

"Because now there's finally someone else to be the scullery maid. Took bloody long enough, it did. Everyone kept saying the king an' the queen, they're not bringing on new staff, an' they laid off lots of the old. So I was thinking I'd never get quit of that drudgery. But now you're here, and I can finally get promoted to kitchen maid."

"You can get promoted?"

Hilde stopped and stared at the younger girl. "Of course you can, silly. Not even old Gerdason herself started off as a head housekeeper! Nuh-uh. She might look all high and grand and powerful, but she started off a scull'y maid like me—like I was. And now she's in charge of everything, along with Mr Kaisson, the butler. And that's gonna be me in twenty or thirty years, you just watch. Large and in charge! But in the meantime, I gotta train you, so don't you be messing up on me, y'hear, or I'll make your life so miserable you'll wish you were out on the streets begging for a living!"

"Of course not, Miss Hilde," Anna said quietly. "I will work hard, I promise."

"Miss Hilde, yeah," the other girl said with a smirk. "Very well. Mind you do."

Hilde pushed open the door to the kitchens, and they entered the cold, dark room.

"There's no one here," Anna said, looking around.

"Of course not, dopey. Now get the fire going here, then clean out and blacken the grates and light the fires upstairs. The fire stuff is there, in that cupboard, in the green box. Well, it was green, once. Coals an' stuff's back in that room, with the coal-bucket. And girl, when you go upstairs, remember to be very quiet! Don't you dare wake the family! And don't enter the princess's room—she doesn't have a fire. Now get going—we don't have all day! You have to have all the fires lit before the family wakes up!"

"But which is the princess's room?" Anna called, but Hilde had already left for the pantry. Anna sighed, and looked around for the fire-lighting materials. She raked out the old coals and ash, and built up a small stack of kindling. Soon the fire was blazing merrily, starting to thaw out the frigid room. Anna added coals, and took a moment to stretch out her hands, enjoying the rare luxury of heat in winter.

"What are you doing, yer Royal Highness? Get moving, girl!"

Anna jumped as Hilde cuffed her on the head, and bowed. "Sorry, Miss Hilde. Right away!"

"When you've done the fires, bedrooms first then the breakfast room, the library, the hall, and the study, empty and clean the chamber pots in the servants' quarters, then help prepare the servants' breakfast. And don't waste time! Or Mrs G'll toss you back out on the streets. You want that?"

"No, Miss Hilde!" Anna gasped, her stomach twisting at the thought. She grabbed the bucket of coals and the fire-lighting box, and hurried up the narrow wooden steps to the bedrooms of the royal family. Easing the small door open, she found herself in a long corridor, with large triangular dormers along one side and cheerfully-painted doors, decorated with flowers and vines, along the other. Careful not to make a sound, she tiptoed along the floor, admiring the paintings that hung on the inner wall. Then she eased open one of the great double doors and slipped into the king's chamber.

"Who goes there?" came a low whisper, startling her.

"Please sir, I'm Anna, sir," she whispered back, seeing a dim figure seated in a chair near the bed. "The new scullery maid."

"Don't wake the king," the guard said softly, motioning towards the fireplace. Anna nodded, and carefully began to clear out the ashes and clean the grate. It took longer than usual, as she was terrified of making a noise. But she soon had a small fire blazing happily in the hearth, and, with a quick curtsey to the sleeping monarch, she tiptoed out of the room.

She did the same thing in the next room, which was the queen's bedchamber, then the next room, before heading downstairs to light the fires in the main rooms. Those were much easier to light, as she didn't have to be so quiet. Anna found it hard to concentrate on her work, however, as she was overawed by the sumptuousness of her surroundings. This was so, so very much better than trudging through the frozen streets, her feet aching, feeling like lumps of ice, and getting ignored or cursed at for the temerity of addressing her betters to try to sell them matches. Now she was warm, well-dressed, living in a palace, and soon she would be fed as well. Life was good.

* * *

Elsa murmured in her sleep, dreaming of summer. She was eating an ice cream dessert, topped with fresh strawberries, but it was melting faster than she could eat it, shrinking and shrinking until it had all melted and she leaned over further and further to get at the remaining ice cream until she toppled over and fell into the sweet warm milk left behind with a sudden splash.

Startled, Elsa's eyes flew open. The room seemed strangely brighter and warmer than normal, but it still took her sleepy brain a few moments to realize why. What in the world? The fire was lit! But… why was the fire lit? The entire staff knew her order that no fires be lit in her room, and that no servants enter without express permission while she was in there.

Her maid Astrid knocked and entered, carrying her tray of fresh water. "And a very good morning to you, Highness," she said. Then she stopped, and glanced over at the fireplace. "Highness? Did you wish for a fire this morning?"

"I did not, Astrid," Elsa said. "Who has gone against my orders?"

"I confess I do not know, Highness. Unless it was the new scullery maid."

"The new scullery maid?"

"I do not recall her name, Highness. She only started this morning. Young girl, strawberry-blonde hair."

"Oh, of course! Anna!"

"Ah, yes, I believe that is her name, Highness. Do not worry; I shall ensure that she is punished."

"No!" Elsa almost shouted. She saw the shock on her maid's expression and took a deep breath. "No. It is her first day. Let her be. And do not mention this to her, or to anyone. Understood?"

"Perfectly, Highness. Would you like to wear the green dress today?"

"No. Wait, the green? I don't care. Whatever seems suitable, Astrid," Elsa said, her mind on other things. Anna had been in her room, while she lay asleep. She had seen her sleeping, tucked in her warm, soft bed as Anna herself was hard at work. For some reason, the thought made Elsa feel slightly guilty. She decided not to mention the fire to anyone else, and to order than no one stopped her from coming into her room in the future. Anna need never know she had disobeyed a royal command.

* * *

The clock was just striking nine at night as Anna wearily climbed the steep stairs to the attic level, and fell into her bed with a long sigh of exhaustion. It had been a very wearying day. After lighting all the fires and dealing with the chamber pots, she had had to help prepare and serve the servants' breakfast, eat her own, then clean and scour all the pots and pans, kettles, and other kitchen utensils, help the kitchen maid, Hilde, with preparing vegetables, and then, after a hearty lunch eaten in the kitchen, she spent the afternoon on her hands and knees cleaning the kitchen, the servants' hall, the housekeeper's office and the other rooms of the service level, and also helping prepare tea and supper in between. Anna's knees were sore and her hands were reddened, but, she reminded herself, she was warm, well-fed, and she was going to sleep in a soft, clean bed with real sheets and pillows.

"Hey, you asleep?" came Hilde's voice, interrupting Anna's thoughts.

"No, Miss Hilde," Anna said, sitting upright as the older girl entered.

"So how'd you like your first day here?"

"Tiring," Anna said truthfully.

Hilde laughed. "Don't I right know it. I was a scull'y maid for three years. I'm really glad you're here, so I could move up. We really don't have near enough servants here."

"Why not?" Anna asked. "I mean, this is the royal castle, so why so few servants?"

Hilde shrugged. "Don't know. Maybe their majesties aren't that rich?"

"Not rich!" Anna exclaimed. "They're the king and queen of Arendelle!"

"Maybe, but I heard from my cousin's husband who visited Stockholm that the king there has a much grander palace, and hundreds of servants."

"Hundreds! Blimey! What do they do all day?"

"Search me," Hilde said, clearly not all that concerned. "I'm going to read for a bit. Ain't you going to get dressed for bed?"

"Oh." Anna glanced down at her maid's frock, which she had forgotten about—she was so used to sleeping in the same clothes she wore in the daytime. She quickly stripped it off, replacing it with the warm woollen nightgown she had been issued. Then she propped up her pillow and took out her precious copy of _Norwegian Folktales_, opening it to the first story, "Boots and the Troll."

"Whatcha reading?" Hilde asked after a while.

Anna showed her the cover.

"Any good?"

"I just started it," Anna explained. "I only got it yesterday."

"Hey, that looks real expensive," Hilde said. "How'd one like you afford that?"

"Uh, it was a… a present," Anna said, not wanting to mention Princess Elsa.

"Right. Of course. A present," Hilde said. "Just a word of warning. Anyone caught stealing is tossed out immediately, that moment. Mrs Gerdason won't stand for that, and nor will Mr Kaisson. So mind you don't borrow any books without permission, y'hear?"

"I didn't borrow this!" Anna exclaimed, her cheeks flushed. "Or steal it!"

"I didn't say you did," Hilde told her with a shrug. "I'm just saying, you might want to return any items you shouldn't have to their proper place afore they're missed, 'tis all."

Anna bit back a retort, not wanting to make an enemy of the girl she had to share a room with. "I don't steal," she said instead. "I'm an honest girl."

She ran her hand over the book's cover, feeling the smooth leather, tracing her fingers over the embossed lettering inlaid with gold, and sighed. It was certainly an elegant, beautiful book, too beautiful for the likes of her. Should she try and return it to the princess? How could she? It would be the height of rudeness to reject her gift like that. But if people thought she had stolen it, if they thought she was a thief, she would be thrown back out onto the cold, harsh streets without a second's thought. It wasn't worth it. Nothing was. So she carefully placed the book in her drawer, resolving to discretely slip it into the library when she had the chance. The princess would never notice, and no one would suspect she had obtained it dishonestly. Her heart heavy at the thought of having to give up her one luxury, Anna lay down on the thin pillow and was soon asleep, her physical exhaustion overcoming her anxious heart.

* * *

"Hurry up, or you'll be late!"

Anna's eyes flew open at the sound of Hilde's voice. It felt like she had only just closed them. She quickly washed her face and got dressed, then hurried down to the kitchen to get the fires going. Once those were done, she lugged her coal-bucket and box of tinder upstairs to do the royal family's rooms.

The fires in the king and queen's room safely lit, Anna eased open the door to the princess's room and slipped inside. She could make out the small form of the young girl under the covers in the four-poster that dominated the room, her pale blonde hair almost seeming to glow in the dim light of the aurora that penetrated the thick velvet curtains.

Carefully, Anna tiptoed to the fireplace, and started raking out the ashes from the previous day, then wiped and polished the grate. Then she piled the old paper and kindling, and struck a match.

"Good morning, Anna."

Startled, Anna leapt up to curtsey and dropped the match. It landed on the hearthrug, and she quickly tried to smother it, knocking over the pail of ashes in the process and covering the rug in grey soot. Anna stared in horror at the mess, her eyes wide in shock and fear, and felt her heart race and tears form. What had she done! She'd woken the princess! After being told so strictly not to make a sound! And she'd burned the rug and covered it in ashes! She'd be lucky to be just thrown back on the streets after this! For what she'd done, she might even be tossed in a dungeon!

"My... my…. Highness, I… I am so sorry, I didn't want to wake you, or ruin the rug, or nothing!" Anna gasped, dropping to the floor and prostrating herself, tears flowing freely. Her life was over. And so soon after it had begun. She waited, her body tense, for the scolding she knew she would receive.

Instead, to her surprise, she heard a different sound. It took Anna's fear-stricken brain a few seconds to work out what the noise was, and when she realized, she was astounded. It was giggling. The princess was actually laughing.

"I do apologize, Anna," Elsa said, slipping out of her bed and padding across to the younger girl. "This was entirely my fault. I should not have startled you so. Do stand up, please. I so hate talking down to someone's bowed head. There, that's better. Now dry your tears."

Anna rubbed at her eyes, but only managed to smear soot over her face. It got in her eyes, and made them sting, leading to fresh tears, and panic that the princess would think she was disobeying an order. She kept her eyes tightly shut, trying to hold back the pain, but then felt a gentle, cool touch on them, the sensation of a soft damp cloth brushing against them.

"Hold still," the princess said as Anna tried to open her eyes. "Nearly done. There."

Anna blinked, and gazed up at the princess, who was smiling at her, holding a silk handkerchief that was now smeared with ash and soot.

"Now wipe your hands, and we'll see about getting the ash cleaned up," the princess said, handing Anna the handkerchief before she could react.

"Highness, I am so, so dreadfully sorry!" Anna exclaimed once she could get her mouth working again. "Please don't throw me out! It won't happen again! I promise! Please, I don't want to be out in the cold again! I'll do anything, please!"

"Relax, Anna," Elsa said. "You didn't wake me. I actually woke up early especially to see you."

"See me, Highness?" Anna gasped.

Elsa smiled. "I was most surprised to wake up yesterday morning to find a blazing fire in my room. Especially as I have given orders that no fires be lit here."

Anna gasped inadvertently, then covered her mouth with her hand as she remembered what Hilde had told her that first morning. Not to enter the princess's room! She hadn't even known whose rooms she had lit fires in – and had completely forgotten that one of them she wasn't supposed to have been in in the first place.

"Highness, I… I am so sorry for that," Anna stumbled out, but Elsa held up a pale, slim hand and smiled.

"Anna, relax. I'm not angry. After all, you've never served in a great house before, and it was your first morning. We all make mistakes. We all do," she added, her face suddenly downcast. "But to err is human. And while I am not divine, I can still forgive. So please, Anna, no more tears. It makes me sad to see you sad."

"You are too good to me, Highness," Anna said, casting her eyes down.

"I'm really not doing anything special, you know," Elsa said. She paused, and reached out to as if to touch Anna, but snatched her hand away at the last second. Anna felt a cold breeze from somewhere, and suddenly remembered she still had a lot of work to do.

"Highness, please, excuse me. I must complete my duties."

The princess took a step back, and Anna could hear what sounded almost like a sigh. "Of course. Oh, and Anna?"

"Highness?"

"I think I would like a fire in my room each morning, after all. See to it, will you?"

Anna glanced up, and caught a wide, welcoming smile on the princess's face as she stood there regally, her hands clasped behind her back. Unable to help herself, she dared to smile back. "Thank you, Highness."

* * *

Elsa watched the serving girl close the door, then brought her hands out to look at them. They were covered in a thin film of ice. With a quick gesture of frustration, she removed the ice, sending a tiny flurry up to the ceiling where it dispersed into crystals, and got back under the covers for another hour or so in bed before Astrid would arrive. But sleep eluded her. Anna seemed, in a way, to be her mirror opposite: from a mere accident of birth, she was everything that Elsa was not. Yet, the princess felt, in even more important ways, Anna might be a mirror of her. Elsa's curse, her touch of ice and snow, kept people away as surely as the dirtiest, poorest rags. Behind the walls of the castle, imprisoned by her mysterious power, she was even more invisible than a beggar, with even less freedom. Perhaps by giving Anna a new life, changing her fate, she could allow herself the hope that one day she, too, might be able to change her fate.

.

* * *

**NOTES:**

Remember, back in the Victorian era, "toilet" referred to personal grooming, washing, dressing, etc. Which is why we still have the term "toiletries." Otherwise it would create a VERY different image (imagine this quote with the modern usage: "Three women got down and standing on the curb they made unabashed toilets" (William Faulkner).).

The details of a scullery maid's duties are taken from a blog on Jane Austen, the PBS website for the program Manor House, and quotes from books like The Complete Servant, written in the 19th century. I've actually skipped over a lot of the minor or more repetitive duties: the life of a scullery maid was far from pleasant, and she was lucky if she got an hour or two to herself each day, with perhaps a half-holiday every week. It was not, however, generally a job for life, thankfully.

Ice cream has been popular in Europe since the 18th century. It was not served in cones, however, until the late 19th century, so in Elsa's dream she would have been eating it from a dish.

"Kai" has been modified to a surname as "Kaisson." Incidentally, in North Germanic languages, which includes Norwegian, Kai means "keeper of the keys; earth". Perfect for a butler (well, for the "keys" part at least).

At the time this story is set (1836, based on Elsa turning 21 in 1845, so 11 going on 12 in 1836), Norway was ruled from Sweden in a personal union, from 1814 to 1905. So rather than Oslo, the monarch would have resided in Stockholm. The king at this time would have been Charles XIV John of Sweden, aka Charles III John of Norway. And was in fact elected to the position, being French by birth.

"Boots and the Troll" is indeed the first story in Asbjørnsen and Moe's _Norwegian Folktales_.

Oh, and despite what Disney might like to imagine, _Sleeping Beauty_ did exist before Walt did. It first appeared as Charles Perrault's story way back in 1697, and later by the Brothers Grimm in 1812. So it's perfectly possible it was common knowledge in the 1830s (and yes, I am very interested in seeing _Maleficent_ - the trailers make it look _Magnificent_...).

Anyway, sorry for the long delay. It's been a busy month. Any spelling errors, mistakes, garbled nonsense, you detect, feel free to sing out, along with any other critiques or comments you might have.

[Posted 30 March 2014]

[Edited 30 March to fix "Esla". Why does that name give me such trouble?]


	5. The Least of My Brethren

**5. The Least of My Brethren**

In her room that night, getting undressed for bed, Anna found a dirty grey piece of cloth in her pocket. She pulled it out, wondering what it was, then remembered: it was the princess's silk handkerchief, the one she had used to wipe her eyes with. She would have to wash it and return it. Anna poured a bit of water from the jug into the tin bowl on her chest of drawers, and started scrubbing at the silk cloth. The water was barely above freezing, and she had no soap, but Anna kept on rubbing at it, ignoring the pain in her reddened hands, until the handkerchief was almost pure white again. She wrung it out and hung it before the fire, holding her hands out to try and thaw them out again as she thought about the princess, and how kind and gentle she was.

The door banged open, and Anna quickly snatched the still-damp handkerchief from the railing by the fire and shoved it up her sleeve as she turned to face Hilde.

"Good evening, Miss Hilde," she said as the older girl flopped down on her bed, still wearing her shoes.

"Oh, I am so tired," Hilde said. "Chef Escoffier was in a right foul mood tonight. You heard him, right?"

"I did," Anna said, repressing a smile. She was glad that she was just a lowly scullery maid and could largely keep out of the way of the _chef de cuisine_ of the royal household. "Did he manage to get a new soufflé done in time, Miss Hilde?"

"Just. It was touch and go for a moment," she said, and giggled briefly. "Oh, and you can knock off the Miss, really. I was just leading you on. Honest, I didn't never think you'd really think I was a Miss. Not least 'til I make lady's maid. Say, what were you doing poking around in front of the fire?"

"Just getting warm, Mi—Hilde," Anna said, moving to her own bed and slipping between the covers. She pulled the handkerchief out from her sleeve, and tucked it down her front where it wouldn't get so wrinkled. It was still a little cold on her skin, but soon warmed up.

* * *

Elsa yawned and stretched as Astrid gently slid the curtains open, revealing the dark pre-dawn sky of the Arendelle winter. There was a small fire crackling merrily in the fireplace, and Elsa smiled as she saw the flames lick at the coals: it showed that Anna had been in her room, tip-toeing on nervous feet no doubt, and probably scared that the princess was going to be awake. Elsa had considered setting her alarm to catch Anna when she arrived, but she had decided that for the moment it might be better to let the new girl get settled into her routine, and not have to worry about whether she'd have to make small talk with a princess each morning. Another, not insignificant factor, was that it was also rather early for the young princess to wake up.

"Good morning, Highness," the lady's maid said, curtseying.

"Astrid," Elsa said, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. "Morning."

"I see the fire has been lit, Highness," Astrid commented. "It does make the room more warm and cheery, if you don't mind me saying so."

Elsa glanced around her bedroom, and shrugged. "Perhaps. The cold never bothered me, anyway. But I suppose it helps keep the water jug from freezing."

She slipped out of bed and splashed some water on her face, wiping the sleep from her eyes. Then she noticed a small, neatly-folded white cloth on her dresser.

"What's that?" she asked.

"I do not know, Highness," Astrid said. The maid picked it up, and started to unfold it. "Ah, it's one of your handkerchiefs. Now what's it doing there? It also appears rather dirty."

"Oh!" Elsa gasped, recognizing it, and suddenly realizing who must have brought it in. It was still a little grey in places, but had clearly been carefully washed and folded. She spotted a small bit of dark green plant flutter down from the handkerchief as Astrid opened it out fully, pursing her lips at the grey stains. "What was inside?" she asked.

The maid bent down and picked it up. "It's just a bit of dead shrub or something. I'll toss it out."

"No!" Elsa gasped, making a grab for the plant.

Astrid gasped and jumped back, fear on her face as a small spike of ice stabbed down and splintered on the floor.

"Oh my God!" Elsa cried, her pale face even whiter than normal. "Oh, I am so sorry, Astrid! I didn't mean to! I'm sorry!"

"I… I'm not hurt, Highness," Astrid said, warily eyeing the shattered shards. "There's nothing to worry about."

Elsa bit her lip, willing herself not to weep as her fingers started to frost over. "Get me my gloves," she said, keeping her voice calm with an effort. "Now."

"Yes, Highness," Astrid said, going over to the princess's dressing-table.

Elsa took a deep breath and closed her eyes, letting visions of precise geometrical shapes dance through her mind. Their regular order and symmetry helped her relax, find the inner peace she needed to control her powers. She was always fighting so hard to retain control, but whenever she was scared or afraid or felt some other intense emotion the ice would come out, and she couldn't control it. And the more she worried about controlling it, the harder it was to control.

She felt the ice on her fingers melt, and breathed a small sigh of relief. Then she bent down and picked up the handkerchief from where it had fallen, along with the plant, which she recognized as a small sprig of rosemary. She quickly laid it on the table before any ice could form. Then Elsa pressed the silk fabric to her nose, and inhaled, catching a faint scent of rosemary. She smiled, and refolded the handkerchief with the rosemary tucked carefully inside it, as Astrid returned with her gloves.

"Oh, the ice has melted already, Highness," the maid said. "I shall take fetch the scullery maid to take care of the puddle while I dress you."

"No, I'll do it," Elsa said, a bit too quickly. She took a breath. "It's my ice that made the puddle, after all."

"Highness, you should not have to clean up! The servants are here for that," Astrid said, stooping quickly with a cloth from her pocket as Elsa stood here, her hands clamped under her arms. Then, once the water was mopped up, she allowed Astrid to hand her the gloves, which she dragged on quickly, breathing a slight sigh of relief when her hands were once again fully covered.

"Is that better, Highness?" Astrid asked, looking up at the girl with sympathy in her eyes.

"Yes, thanks. I think it best that I wear them any time someone is in my room as well," Elsa said in a quiet voice. "I'm going to the library: tell the staff to bring me my breakfast there."

"But the king and queen will be expecting you, Highness," Astrid said.

"Tell them… tell them I had a slight accident," Elsa said. "They'll understand why I need to be alone for a while."

* * *

Anna finished up her breakfast quickly, then hurried up to her room. She had a brief bit of time before her next task, and dared not risk someone finding the book before she could return it: she did not have a key to her room, and it was liable for inspection at any time. With trembling hands, she extracted the precious book, and quickly shoved it down the front of her pinafore. She hated the idea of returning it, but she was terrified of being considered a thief, and turned out into the cold winter streets. She couldn't go back there again—anything was better than that, any sacrifice was worth it if it meant she could be warm and fed.

Tip-toeing down the servants' staircase, Anna listened at the green baize door that divided the world of the servants from that of their masters, then eased it open. There was no one in sight. Her heart beating, Anna tip-toed along the corridor, then ducked into the alcove where the rear door to the library was. Again she listened for any sounds, then eased the door open, her heart jumping into her mouth at the slight squeak it made.

She slipped into the gloomy library, which was lit only by a few gas lamps, the shutters permanently pulled together. Glancing quickly around the room, she exhaled in relief: there was no one else here. Anna eased the book out from its uncomfortable nest down her front, and looked around for a suitable place in which to slip it. The library shelves were well-stocked, but to Anna's dismay, they were fronted with ornate grilled cabinet doors. Could she slip the book between the slim wrought iron traceries? No, she realized. She would have to put it on one of the desks and hope that was enough. She moved over towards the nearest one, and heard a board groan under her foot.

"Who's there?" came a voice, and Anna's heart stopped, blind panic overwhelming her. Should she run? Where to? In the few seconds she stood there in indecisive fear, a pale blonde head appeared above a high-backed leather chair, and dark blue eyes turned on her. They widened in surprise.

"Anna? What are you doing here?"

"Hi—Highness! I'm sorry! I—I can explain! Please, I wasn't trying to steal, honest!"

"Steal? Anna, what have you got in your hands?" Elsa asked.

"The… the book you gave me, Highness," Anna stammered out, her heart beating.

"The book? _Norwegian Folktales_? Have you finished it already?"

"N—no, Highness."

"Wait… don't you like it?" Elsa asked, her brow furrowing.

"No Highness, I mean yes, Highness, I mean I like it a lot, Highness," Anna gasped.

"So what are you doing with it here?"

"I… I was scared, Highness."

"Of what? Of the book?"

Anna shook her head violently, sending her strawberry-blonde pigtails flying.

"Anna, you're not making sense. You didn't come down to read the book here, did you? Because you know that is not permitted, right?"

Anna nodded furiously. "Of course, Highness. I wouldn't never ever dare to, Highness!"

"Anna, come here, and do please stop looking so scared. I'm not angry at you, I'm just curious."

Trying not to weep from fear, Anna slowly walked over to where the princess sat, an open book on her lap.

"So what are you doing here, then?" Elsa asked.

"I… I was afraid that… that people might think I stealed this book, Highness."

"Stole it? Why on earth would they think that?"

"Because… because it's too good for the likes of me," Anna said.

"Too good? What do you mean?"

"It's a fancy book, Highness. With leather an' gold an' pretty pictures in colour. I couldn't never buy a book like this. An' I don't want nobody to think I stealed—stole it."

"Did someone accuse you of stealing it, Anna?" Elsa asked, her eyes narrow.

Anna shook her head. "No, Highness. Leastways, not yet. But it's too fancy to be a serving girl's book, an' I don't want to be thrown out again, please, so I thought I best put it in the library."

"But I gave that to you-it's yours," Elsa told her.

"I know, Highness, and I'm ever so grateful, honest I am. But who's gonna believe me if they catch me with such a fancy book?"

"I see," Elsa said, and sighed. "In that case—"

With a quick knock, the door suddenly opened and the butler walked in. "Highness, pardon the intrusion, but it is time for your French lessons."

"Oh, already?" Elsa said. She closed her book and stood up as Kaisson fixed Anna with a glare.

"What on Earth do you think you are doing? Leave this room immediately!" he ordered. "I am so sorry, Your Highness. This will not happen again." He gestured imperiously to Anna. "Girl! I shall have Mrs Gerdason reprimand you about your duties, and to ensure the lesson remains, you shall have no supper tonight."

"I…. Yes, sir," Anna said, trembling. "I'm sorry."

Elsa raised a hand. "Kaisson, Anna is here because I summoned her. She was… she was…." Elsa started to say, then tailed off.

"I was bringing the princess her book, sir," Anna quickly explained. She held up the volume she was holding. "This book, sir."

"Ah, yes, that book," Elsa said, and to Anna it seemed almost as if the princess had given her a conspiratorial half-smile, on the side of her face away from the butler. "Uh, put it on the table, then. You had best return to your duties. And don't worry, you will not be punished for being in here, because I ordered you to come."

"Of course she will not, Highness," Kaisson said with a bow. "By your leave," he added, and left the room.

"You're a quick thinker, Anna," Elsa said, holding her gloved hands behind her. "Don't worry about the book—I understand your problem. I would hate to put you in an awkward position."

"You are so good to me, Highness," Anna said. "To treat a scullery maid so."

"That which thou doeth unto the least of my brethren, thou doeth unto me," Elsa quoted. "Now you best be off."

Anna was slightly confused—she was sure that the princess was an only child, but curtseyed and quickly left.

Alone again, Elsa picked up the book, and let it fall open on her lap. She saw a small strip of newspaper that had been used as a simple bookmark, and smiled, fingering it. Then she picked the book up and took it to the writing desk, where she dipped a pen into the inkwell and wrote something inside the cover, before moving over to the bell-pull, to which she gave a quick tug. In a few moments, Astrid knocked and entered.

"Send for Mrs Gerdason, please," Elsa asked.

* * *

"Now, are there any more announcements before I say Grace?" Kaisson asked, looking around the table in the servants' hall at supper that evening.

"I have one, actually," Gerdason said. "Anna, you mustn't leave your things lying around. I found this where it wasn't supposed to be." She laid a rectangular brown object on the table. To her astonishment Anna, who was standing nearby to help serve the servants' dinner, recognized the leather-bound copy of _Norwegian Folktales_ she had returned to the princess.

"I… that book… I didn't—I don't, that is…." Anna stammered, her surprise tripping up her tongue.

"This is yours, is it not?" Gerdason asked. "It has your name in it, after all. You can't deny it. So come and take it."

Anna glanced briefly at Hilde, whose eyebrows were slightly raised, and took the book from the table. Curious, she opened the cover, and found an inscription on the flyleaf. In an elegant, well-practiced hand, it read _This book belongs to Anna_. Realizing who must have written it, and why, Anna traced the flowing copperplate curves with a finger that was slightly shaking, and swallowed.

"Well, what do you say?" Gerdason said, her grey eyes gazing directly into Anna's blue-green ones.

"My… I…. I don't…. Thank you, so much," Anna said. "I am very grateful, honest. I won't let this happen again."

"Good. It's just as well it was I who found it, and not, say, her highness."

"I wouldn't never want to upset the princess, ma'am," Anna said hastily. She looked directly at the housekeeper's face, seeing a slight knowing smile. "I mean, she's been so very generous to me."

"Indeed she has."

"The entire royal family is generous," Kaisson interjected. "To all of us," he added, looking around the room. "And now I think we can return to the business of supper. Eyes closed, please, for the blessing."

* * *

That night, when the last of her chores were finally finished, Anna climbed the narrow stairs to the attic and slipped into her room. Hilde was already there, re-reading a magazine that was a month out of date. Anna fished the book out of her apron pocket and put it ostentatiously on her bedside dresser before getting ready for bed.

"I guess that was your book after all," Hilde said, glancing over at Anna.

"Uh, it has my name in it," Anna said. "See?"

"Very nice writing," Hilde commented. "I never knew beggar girls were instructed in penmanship."

"I'm not a beggar!" Anna countered hotly. "I never was no beggar, neither!"

"If you say so," Hilde said, shrugging. "So what were you?"

"I sold matches," Anna said. "I was an honest salesgirl, I was."

"Match-girls ain't no better'n beggars," Hilde said, making a face. "They're just a sort of respectable beggar."

"We are not!" Anna retorted. "Beggars, that is. We is respectable. I had a profession, I did. I made money."

Hilde laughed. "Oh yeah? How much?"

There was a short silence. "Not much," Anna eventually said. "And Daddy got angry sometimes."

Hilde rolled over on her side, and looked over at the younger girl. "Things are much nicer here for you, are they?" she asked quietly.

"They are," Anna said, thinking of how the princess had talked to her so kindly, and made sure she could keep her book. "Everyone's real kind. Especially Her Highness."

"Wait? The princess? Kind?" Hilde laughed. "You have to be kidding me!"

"What? She is too kind! You take that back!"

"What could you know? You don't barely know her," Hilde said.

"I do know her! I've met her! She's very kind and polite!" Anna shot back.

"You've been here what, a couple of days? Probably just grateful people aren't yelling at you? Look, girl, don't mistake politeness for kindness. The princess is polite all right, like a proper princess should be. But she definitely ain't a warm-hearted person. 'Round here, we call her the Ice Princess."

"Ice Princess? That's just dumb!" Anna said.

"Maybe," Hilde said. "But take it from me, you do not want to anger the princess. You just don't."

.

* * *

**WORDMANGLER'S LECTURE NOTES:**

Sorry for the delay. Life is busy, and it's hard to get time to write. This is more of a character-based filler chapter, but there is a plot to this story….

The title, and Elsa's quote, is from the Bible, Matthew 25:40. This was a time when religion was much more dominant than it is now, and it would be expected that a princess, at least, would be quite familiar with the Bible. And she would almost certainly be required to learn French, as well as Latin probably. Might even be taught a bit of Greek.

While Downton Abbey has Mrs Patmore, a royal household (especially from this period) would be more likely to use a male cook. I have decided that Arendelle has imported their very own French chef. I have pinched the name from the very real and very famous chef Auguste Escoffier – he might be a bit too famous, but we can pretend this was Auguste's father or uncle or something. The royal family only deserves the best, after all…

Servants' sections were divided from the rest of the house by a door that was often covered in green baize, the same material used on billiard tables, as a sound-deadening measure. Houses were designed to separate the working servants and the family and their guests as much as possible—not just because servants should do their work unseen and not sully the grand areas, but so that servants could move around without constantly running into and having to stop their work to properly greet the family.

Gas lighting took off in Britain in the early 19th century, so I expect a royal palace in Europe would have it as well. The library shelves with their cabinet grills are modelled off the Blenheim Palace library. I assume this was a security measure.

Fountain pens didn't really start to take off until the 1830s in England, so I assume they wouldn't arrive in Arendelle for a good decade or more. In fact, they didn't become popular until the 1850s or later. In addition, the early fountain pens weren't as easy to use as they are now, so I have had Elsa use a dip pen.

If you find any typos I missed, feel free to yell out. And the next chapter should be up in another fortnight...

[Edited 7-May-14: Minor grammar and style changes]


	6. Butterfly Dreams

**6. Butterfly Dreams**

After a month, Anna had settled in nicely to her new life. It was hard, sometimes bitterly so, but no matter how painful her workload was, no matter how many buckets and mops she lugged up and down the narrow service stairs, how many chamber-pots she had to empty, or how many filthy pots and pans she had to scrub, she always knew that she would get a warm meal and a clean bed at the end of it. And that no matter how much she was shouted at, nobody would beat her beyond a quick cuff around the ears. She chatted with Hilde a lot, and some of the other lower-ranking servants, including Kristoff when she met him making a delivery. There were also the occasional glimpses of the young princess, usually from a distance, or when the princess was still asleep. But sometimes—not often, but sometimes—she would be awake when Anna would tiptoe into her room early in the morning, and, after the fire was lit, would ask the scullery maid about her new life. Sometimes she would also comment on a book she was reading, or ask Anna some other simple question before the maid had to leave.

At first Anna had been startled, then apprehensive, about these early-morning encounters with the royal child, but she gradually came to welcome them, and even look forward to them. The princess seemed very kind and generous. She had no idea why the servants seemed to consider her to be cold and heartless, an Ice Princess. So one day in early February, when she encountered Hans in the basement passageway, she decided to ask him.

"Yeah, well, we're not supposed to discuss the family behind their backs," he told her. "Or in front of 'em, come to think of it."

"But she's always been so nice to me," Anna said. "I mean, I know she's a princess an' all, and we're not having tea parties or nothing, but she's sweet. Hilde says that's just her being polite, but—"

"Polite? Why'd a princess need to be polite to the likes of us?" Hans interrupted, making a face. "We're just servants. Them upstairs don't care about us one way or the other. As for the Ice Princess? She's just polite because it's what she's trained to be. She never talks to any of us more than she can help. Even less than the other royals. You can tell she doesn't want us anywhere near. It's the way she looks at us, avoids us. It's as if we're not even really human. Or maybe she isn't really human."

"That's rot!" Anna shot back. "She is too human!"

"Not much of one," Hans said. "She's an automaton who cares more about her lessons and her science stuff than she does about people. She prefers the company of books by men dead a hundred years to playing like a normal girl. She always wears those long gloves, like she can't bear to touch stuff, like she's too grand to get her hands dirty. She spends all her time in her room, or the library, and never, ever leaves the castle if she can help."

"She's always been real kind to me. Maybe she just doesn't like _you_!" Anna retorted.

Hans shrugged. "Ask anyone. They'll all tell you the same thing."

"She saved my life, y'know!" Anna shot.

"Maybe she did, though God knows why. Why she bothered, that is. Look, kid, you're new here, the bloom ain't off the rose yet. But it will—once you've been here a year or two, once you get used to all the fancy surroundings, you'll find this ain't such a great place." He stopped, and looked around as a conspiratorial grin slowly spread across his face. "Things… happen here. There's something strange about this place. Some evil afoot."

"Evil?" Anna gasped.

"Yeah. You ever go into a room here, and it's really, really cold inside?"

Anna nodded. "It's winter. Of course it's cold."

"Yeah, but really, extra cold. More than outside. And the same thing happens in summer. Even on the hottest days there's rooms in this place that are always cold. I've seen ice, even. Upstairs, you sometimes go into a room, and it's like you stepped straight into winter. Know what I think? I think there's a ghost here."

"A gh—ghost?" Anna stammered. "Are… are you sure?"

Hans nodded, his face solemn. "The older servants, the ones who've been here for decades, they just won't talk about why the rooms are so cold. But I bet they know about the ghost, for sure. There's something… not right with this place. Why'd you think there's so few servants? You and I, we're the only new servants in five years."

"I dunno. Hilde reckons they're not that rich."

Hans laughed. "Not rich? The bleeding royal family ain't rich? Now that's rich, that is. Nah, it ain't that. I reckon this place is cursed. There's something going on here. Ghost, witches, I dunno. Something's going against the laws of God here. So you be careful, okay?"

"I will, Hans," she said. "Thanks ever so much for the warning."

"Don't mention it," he said, smiling at her. Anna thought he did look rather handsome when he smiled. "Just helping out a fellow servant, sharing my wisdom. You run along now, girl—I have work to do."

"Of course. And I'll be careful," Anna said, bobbing her head and then walking away slowly towards the kitchens, thinking. Ghosts? She could easily believe it. The Royal Castle of Arendelle was clearly very old, and while she had not had time to explore much of the grounds and the outlying buildings, some of the areas she had seen looked like they were many centuries old. Anna wondered who the ghost might be—a soldier who had died in some long-forgotten battle? A serving girl, like her? Or even a long-dead princess, roaming the halls and corridors? She shivered, drawing her thin shawl more tightly around her shoulders.

"Anna! There you are! What are you doing, daydreaming?"

The girl whirled at the sound of the housekeeper's voice. "Mrs Gerdason?"

"Haven't you cleaned the saucepans yet? Chef wants to get dinner started, and Hilde needs to wash and chop the vegetables. Hurry up!"

"Yes, Mrs Gerdason. I'm sorry. Uh, Mrs Gerdason…?"

"What is it?"

"Have you… have you heard anything about a ghost here, Ma'am?"

The elderly woman stared at Anna, then smiled. "Don't tell me! Hans has been spinning his tales again?"

"Uh, I'm not sure—he did tell me, yes."

"He's full of nonsense like that. He'll tell you anything, just to get a rise out of you."

"But what about the cold rooms?"

"It's winter in Arendelle, what did you expect?"

"But he said they're cold even in summer."

"Anna, my child, check the length of your legs."

"My legs, Ma'am?" Anna was surprised at the non sequitur. She raised her skirts above her knees, and glanced down. "They look normal to me."

Mrs Gerdason laughed. "You sure? Because Hans has really been pulling them."

"Oh." Anna dropped her skirts, and pouted. "Well, pooh to him then!"

"Don't worry about Hans. He's just teasing the new girl. Of course there aren't any ghosts here! There's nothing weird going on at all! And don't you go listening to strange stories! Now hurry up and get those pans before Chef starts throwing things. Because if he does, then I'll start throwing things at you."

Anna was startled at first, then, seeing the housekeeper's smile, she smiled back and hurried off.

* * *

"Your hot chocolate, Highness."

Elsa looked up from her book as the butler approached silently across her bedroom floor that evening.

"Thank you, Kaisson. On the table, please."

"Very good." The butler placed the silver tray on the table beside the large leather armchair where Elsa was curled up with a book. "Will there be anything else, Your Highness?"

"That will be all for tonight," Elsa said. "Wait, no. There is one thing."

"Highness?"

"How is… how is Anna settling in?"

"You are most kind to take an interest, Highness. Young Anna is doing very well, I believe. I have seldom seen a more willing and cheerful worker. Mrs Gerdason and I almost never need to chastise her, and she only ever needs to told something once."

"Ah, I am pleased to hear that. What about the other servants? How are they treating her?"

"She is well-liked in the Servants' Hall, Highness. Very cheerful and quite the chatterbox. I am not aware of any problems there."

"I know you would have preferred we did not bring in any new staff, due to my… problem," Elsa said, holding up her gloved hands briefly. "She has not mentioned anything about… about me? In that sense?"

Kaisson shook his head. "As far as I am aware, Highness, young Anna has no idea how you saved her. She is merely grateful—very grateful, of course—that you did."

"Good. I would like to try and keep it that way. She doesn't need to know."

"The servants are aware of the prohibition on discussing your… condition with others, Highness. Any rumours that get started are immediately quashed."

"Good, good," Elsa said, fingering her book. "Has she… has she mentioned anything about her family?"

Kaisson shook his head. "No, Highness. Mrs Gerdason told me that she has mentioned her late grandmother. And I know not whether her parents be living or dead. To be honest, Highness, it is more than probable that she is an orphan. I know many of the poorer classes must take to honest work when that happens, even at such a tender age."

Elsa fidgeted with her braid. "So she's utterly alone in the world?"

"It appears so, Highness. At any rate, she shows no desire to return to her old home, and never speaks of it. I do not like to pry."

"No, of course," Elsa said. "Still, please keep me informed about anything else she might say about herself."

"Of course, Highness. Will that be all?"

"You may go. Thank you, Kaisson."

The butler bowed and left the room, leaving Elsa alone. She opened her book again, but did not read it. Instead she sat, staring at the far wall, lost in thought for a few moments. Then she carefully placed her book back on the table and walked over to the window, where she drew back the curtains and gazed out across the lights of the small city. The sun had set several hours ago, and the night sky was a deep, rich blue. High above, flowing between the stars, she could see the faint flickering green tendrils of the aurora as it drifted slowly down from its home by the Pole.

"The sky is awake again," she whispered to herself. What caused it to awaken, she wondered. And why did it always make her feel so strange inside? It always had, ever since she could remember. The Northern Lights, the mysterious _Nordlys_, seemed almost to sing to her, resonating, echoing, somewhere deep inside her; and whenever they appeared she could feel the ice within her calling back, responding to the siren song of the night.

Elsa quickly closed the curtains, shutting out that unearthly illumination, and returned to her book and the steady, homely warm glow of her oil lamp.

* * *

As the clock was striking ten, Anna staggered up the stairs, her legs and arms aching as usual, and fell into her narrow bed with a heavy sigh, burying her face in her pillow.

"Tough day, huh?"

Not even raising her head to look at Hilde, Anna nodded. "Plurbbb…" she got out, a wordless expression of exhaustion half-muffled by the sheets.

"Yeah, I'll bet," Hilde said, chuckling. She lay on her back, arms behind her head. "Starting to wish you were still free, living out there on the streets selling matches? I bet that's a lot easier. Just standing around all day asking 'Matches, sah? Wonna buy me matches? 'Ow's about a match fer yer pipe, mister?'"

"Stop that!"

"What? You don't wanna buy some matches? They's loverly matches, love," Hilde said with a grin. "Specially made for to light 'Er 'Ighness's own fires!"

"I never talk like that!" Anna said, glaring at the older girl. "Don't make fun o' the princess, neither! An' I ain't never going back to the streets. Never!" She shuddered. "Out there it's cold," she added in a quieter voice. "I hate the cold. I hate the cold so very much. I ain't never going back to being cold."

* * *

Elsa had tossed and turned most of the night, her sleep disturbed by strange dreams. She woke early, hearing a small noise, and realised Anna was just starting to clean the grate.

"Good morning, Anna," Elsa said softly.

Startled, Anna dropped her brush and stood up quickly. "Good morning, Your Highness," she said, curtseying, her eyes looking down at the floor. "I apologize for waking you."

"Don't worry, you didn't," Elsa assured her. "I was awake anyway."

"Thank you, Highness." Anna stood there nervously for a moment, glancing back at the bare fireplace.

"Don't let me stop you doing your work," Elsa said. "That's more important than remaining standing in my presence."

"Yes, Highness. Sorry, Highness," Anna said, sinking back to her knees and pulling out the ash tray.

Through sleepy, half-closed lids, the princess observed the scullery maid, seeing her hard at work. The sort of physical labour that Elsa herself had never had to perform; would live her whole life without knowing. Whereas Anna would never know the comfort and bliss of lying in a soft, eider down-filled bed until the sun was high in the sky. As she did from time to time, Elsa imagined what it would be like if they swapped places, with her being the servant and Anna being the mistress. She was sure Anna would make a good and kind mistress, at least—much more so than she was, that was for sure.

"Is your work very hard?" the princess asked.

"Uh, it can be tiring, Highness. But I am warm, get fed good food, and get these nice clothes."

Elsa suppressed a smile at Anna's description of her plain, cheap scullery maid's pinny as 'nice.' "I'm glad it's not too bad," she said. "I'm sure you have a lot of work to do each day, however. But take heart—we all do. Even I do, believe it or not."

Anna blinked. "You, Your Highness? Beg… begging your pardon, Highness, but what sort of… um…."

"What sort of work do I do?" Elsa laughed briefly. "For one thing, I have to spend my days studying."

"Studying? Do you go to school?"

"Sort of. I don't go to school with other children, however. I have a governess." She looked over at Anna, who was wiping down the grate. "Do you—did you go to school?"

Anna shook her head quickly. "No, Highness. Well, leastways just Sunday School. They taught me how to read, so I could read the Bible."

"That's it?" Elsa asked, raising an elegant eyebrow.

"Uh, yes, Y' Highness. We was poor, and they say the poor don't ought to have more learning than to read the Scriptures."

Elsa pursed her lips. "Nobody should be kept ignorant like that. It isn't right. You should be able to study what you like."

"Um… what do you study, Highness?"

"Oh, all sorts of things. Literature, and the Classics. Languages like French and Latin and English. Music. Mathematics. I like mathematics—geometry in particular."

"What's jommitry?" Anna asked as she piled paper and kindling for the fire.

"Geometry," Elsa explained. "The study of shapes. Creating and playing with different shapes." Her expression grew distant as she conjured up images of the infinite recursiveness of snowflakes, and reflected on the way that no matter how closely she looked at them through her microscope, there were still more patterns to discover, deeper and deeper, all the way down into infinity. "I like art, too," she added. "And architecture. That's about designing buildings," she added to a puzzled-looking Anna. "And then there's politics and history and diplomacy and all that sort of thing."

Anna's eyes grew round. "Gosh, that's ever so many things! Why'd you have to study all that stuff?" she asked.

"Because I'm the princess," Elsa said, with a slightly bitter smile. "One day I will have to rule Arendelle, and make all the decisions about what to do. Not just for me, or my family, but for every single person who lives here. It will be my duty to keep them all safe." She stopped, and sighed. "Sometimes I don't think I could ever do it," she said in a quieter voice. "Sometimes… I wish I had an older sister, or brother, and didn't have the responsibility, didn't have to be the perfect girl."

Elsa broke off, remembering she was only talking to a lowly serving girl. Normally the princess would never dream of being this open with the servants. It was just that for some reason Anna was so easy to talk to. Perhaps as she was the only female servant younger than Elsa herself was. And because Anna was a servant, she didn't need to worry about etiquette, or the art of conversation, or social rules and forms of address, or embarrassing her parents or the kingdom through some faux pas. But still, it really wasn't acceptable to be quite so chatty with the help. Others would not approve if they found out.

"Uh, Anna, please don't tell anyone else about what I just said," Elsa added.

The younger girl shook her head violently. "Never, Highness! I never tell anyone what we talk about."

"In fact, uh, it might be better if you don't mention we talk at all," Elsa said.

"Um…." Anna stammered, looking away.

"Have you, Anna?" Elsa asked, carefully keeping her voice gentle.

"I… I… uh… I guess I might have mentioned that you talked to me once or twice, I suppose," Anna said nervously.

"To whom?"

"Uh, well, I told Hilde that you talked to me sometimes. She told me I must be more quiet, and shouldn't talk to any of the royal family, ever, just to say 'yes Majesty, no Majesty'. And I think I told Mrs Gerdason once, when she asked how I was doing in my work, and I said I enjoyed talking with you."

"I see," Elsa said, unable to keep a smile off her face. "Well, that's fine. But better you don't tell anyone else, or mention it again."

"No, Highness. I'm so sorry, Highness."

"Oh, Anna, I'm not scolding you. I'm not mad, so please don't do that thing with your lip."

"My… my lip?" Anna asked, putting her fingers to it.

"When you get really worried, your lower lip goes all wobbly," Elsa said. "Like this." She proceeded to demonstrate, and was rewarded by seeing Anna smile. She increased the speed and size of her wobbles, and Anna giggled briefly, then quickly fell silent, and cast her eyes down again.

"My apologies, Highness, for laughing at you," she said quietly.

"You're supposed to laugh," Elsa said. "It was a joke."

"But Mr Kaisson said we must never laugh at our betters," Anna said. "Your Highness," she quickly added.

"Well, I give you special permission to laugh with me when we're alone, Anna. Would you like that?"

Anna smiled shyly. "I would, Your Highness. I would like that very much."

"So would I, Anna. I don't get many other girls to laugh with."

"It must be lonely, being a princess," Anna ventured as she finished blackening the grate.

Elsa sighed. "It's very lonely, being me. You get used to it, learn to deal with it. Learn to be the good girl you always have to be."

"I… I don't think I could be so good all the time, Highness."

"Oh, I think you'd be better than me, Anna. Everyone likes you." Her expression grew dour. "They don't like me that much."

"Highness!" Anna gasped. "We all love you!"

"I wish it were true," Elsa said, a faint smile on her lips. "But it's a small castle. I know what people think of me. I know they call me the Ice Princess." She sighed. "In truth, I don't actually mind. It's true. I am cold."

Anna shook her head furiously. "No it isn't! You're warm and caring!"

"Ah, Anna, I only wish I could be as warm as you. But it's more true than you know." She decided it was best to change the subject, and gave a wide yawn. "Sorry. I didn't get much sleep, due to nightmares."

"I am sorry to hear that, Highness," Anna said.

"Oh, it's nothing," Elsa said, giving Anna a reassuring smile. "I have nightmares quite often. I'm sure you do too."

Anna shuddered. "I have them lots, Highness," she said quietly.

"What sort of nightmares do you have?" Elsa asked, her voice gentle.

Anna stopped adding coal and looked around nervously, as if she were afraid someone was watching her. "Sometimes… sometimes I wake up, and I'm not here no more, but back home, and the cold wind is coming through the cracks in the walls and my father is drunk again and shouting he's going to beat me and I just about cry because all this, all this, was just a dream, and then… and then I wake up, and I can see the white ceiling of my room in the attic, and I see Hilde in her bed, and I'm warm, and not hungry no more, and I just about cry because I'm afraid this is all just a dream, and one day I'm going to wake up for real and it'll all be over."

"Oh." Elsa hesitated. This was the longest speech she'd ever heard Anna make, and the most intimate. She wasn't quite sure how to respond. She watched as Anna lit a match, and gazed at it briefly, her expression unreadable, before applying it to the neatly-stacked pyramid of kindling. Watching her, the princess wondered what the other girl was thinking—what did the glow of the match mean to her? Was it a reminder of her poverty, of how nearly she had frozen to death?

"It's not a dream, Anna," she eventually said. "I'm real, you're real, this is all real. You shouldn't worry about going back to… that life. As princess, I give you my promise."

"Thank you so ever much, Highness," Anna said, tears sparkling in her eyes. "Sometimes, when I get in trouble, I get scared I might be told to leave."

"Trouble? I thought you were a good girl, Anna."

"I… I try to be, Highness, honest," Anna said, twisting her apron. "But sometimes, if I don't do my job proper, or am slow, Mrs Gerdason or Mr Kaisson scolds me."

"Don't worry about them. I brought you in, so they can't fire you."

"Really?" Anna asked, her eyes wide.

"How could I let you go? Who'd make my fires each morning?" Elsa joked, trying to lighten the mood. She was rewarded by a small nervous smile.

"Highness, might I ask… why did you not have any fires before me… before I came?" Anna asked as the flames grew higher and she added some coal.

"Oh, ah…. Well, um, these blankets are warm and thick, and I suppose the cold doesn't bother me much," Elsa explained.

Anna shivered. "I hate being cold. Sometimes I have nightmares about that as well, Highness. About the entire world being covered in ice and snow, and everything buried under a blanket of white, and everything dying."

Elsa shuddered. "Sounds like my nightmares," she muttered to herself.

"Yours, Highness? What could a princess have nightmares about?" Anna asked, and Elsa made a slight face as she realized she had spoken out loud. She glanced down at her hands: she could feel the cold forming, and quickly thrust them under the covers, out of sight, as images of pitiless frost and death started to flood into her mind. _Stop it_, she warned herself. _Don't feel that. Don't let the fear control you_.

"Things worse than you could ever imagine," she said, in a voice barely above a whisper. Then she took a deep breath, and looked over at the servant girl. "Anna, I think you should perhaps be getting on with the rest of your duties."

"Uh, yes, Your Highness, of course. My apologies."

Anna curtseyed politely, and left. Once she was gone, Elsa took her hands out from under the covers. They were frosted completely white. With a furious gesture, she shook it off and sent it spraying towards the hearth, where her ice sizzled and hissed, melted by the warmth of Anna's fire.

.

* * *

**BACKGROUND NOTES:**

Some more character beats, fleshing out how some people think. Coupled with some minor foreshadowing and thematic hints, of course.

The title is based on a famous quote by a 4th century BC Chinese philosopher, Zhuangzi, who dreamed he was a butterfly, then wondered if he was in fact a butterfly who was now dreaming he was a man. "Am I a man dreaming he is a butterfly or a butterfly dreaming he is a man?" Lewis Carroll has something similar, with the Red King, who Alice is told is in fact dreaming about her, and if he should wake, poof, she goes into nothingness.

"Kid" apparently dates back (in the sense of "child") to 1812, or by the 1840s at the latest, though as slang from the 1590s (thanks, etymonline dot com). Of course Hans and Anna are presumably speaking Norwegian (I don't think Arendelle is large enough to have its own language, though it might have a dialect) and I have no idea about Norwegian. However it's not as anachronistic in English as it might sound. Oh, and the term "scientist" (in English of course) dates back to 1833, but "science" is older. And while "robot" is a new word, "automaton" dates back to 1645. And fits better with what I want to say anyway. I'm trying to avoid too many Downton Abbey-style language anachronisms (where the Dowager Countess is known for saying "Pwned, dudes!"), but only doing a quick and dirty job.

Cocoa powder as we know it today was invented by van Houten in 1828. Hot chocolate itself had been a popular drink in Europe among the wealthy (for it was not cheap at first) since the mid-seventeeth century. Milk chocolate, in solid form, was only developed in 1839. (And it has been drunk by the Mayans for about four millennia.)

"Nordlys," as you can imagine, is the Norwegian for "Northern Lights." I've only seen them once, from a plane flying from LAX to LHR (Heathrow). I'd love to see them from the ground in their full splendour one day.

Further research into home lighting in the Victorian period (buildingconservation dot com has a nice detailed article) suggests that gas, while used, did not really take off until 1859, when the new Houses of Parliament were gas-lit. It was apparently distrusted. So while I will leave a few gas lamps, I have given Elsa an oil one this time. They were apparently not so good for smaller rooms either.

It seems that the children of the poor would generally only go to Sunday School, to learn the very basics about how to read and perhaps simple sums. Further education was considered a waste of time, and in fact bad for them, as it would give them ideas above their station and make them unhappy with their lot in life. Flower sellers, match girls, watercress girls, etc. would all become fairly adept at simple sums from necessity, but their knowledge and skills were intensely practical—of the wider world, they would know almost nothing. I hope to address this later on in the story. Anna has spent all her time out in the real world, and knows nothing of book learning, while Elsa has spent all of hers in the library, and knows nothing of the real world. I don't know if English would be studied in Scandinavia in the 19th century, but let's just have Elsa learning it. As an aside, I really hate maths.

The word "fractal," by the way, is a 20th century coinage, from 1975 in fact, so Elsa could not possibly be singing about "frozen fractals all around." The concept of mathematical recursion, however, dates back to the 17th century.

Sometimes I think I like writing these explanatory notes more than the actual story….

The next chapter will probably be about another fortnight, especially as I'm not sure what's going in it yet. I know where the story is going, never fear, and the main beats, but the details get worked out on the fly, so to speak. That's the fun way to write, when the characters themselves can help direct the story.


End file.
